Magazine November 27, 2017, Issue

Poetry

(Darrin Zammit Lupi/Reuters)

PLEASANT BAY

Because it rained all day, everyone grew sad.

Those already sad grew sadder.

The cupped blossoms of the wild strawberries

broadcast through the fields

drained as quickly as they filled,

while we were filled up

and kept on filling, like clocks ticking

after the end of the world.

Jessica Hornik is the author of the poetry collection A Door on the River and an associate editor of National Review. Her poems have appeared in The Atlantic, The Times Literary Supplement, The New Criterion, Poetry, and many other publications.

In This Issue

Articles

Features

Books, Arts & Manners

Sections

Letters

Letters

The Many Names of the Entitlement State In “Cut the Payroll Tax” (October 16), James C. Capretta asserts: “Cutting it would encourage more people to join the labor force; it would ...
The Week

The Week

‐ Bernie Sanders is shocked that the Democrats’ election was fixed. This would never happen under socialism. ‐ Democrat Ralph Northam shellacked Republican Ed Gillespie in the Virginia gubernatorial race. It’s ...
Poetry

Poetry

PLEASANT BAY Because it rained all day, everyone grew sad. Those already sad grew sadder. The cupped blossoms of the wild strawberries broadcast through the fields drained as quickly as they filled, while we were filled ...

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