a few days longer

Today's Academy of American Poets poem-of-the-day—which I get in my inbox every morning whether or not it is poetry month—absolutely fucked me up, so of course I am posting it so that all of you can feel equally fucked up. Like basically every Dorianne Laux poem I have ever read, it is gorgeous and does not pull its punches.

It’s the best part of the day, morning light sliding
down rooftops, treetops, the birds pulling themselves
up out of whatever stupor darkened their wings,
night still in their throats.

I never wanted to die. Even when those I loved
died around me, away from me, beyond me.
My life was never in question, if for no other reason
than I wanted to wake up and see what happened next.

And I continue to want to open like that, like the flowers
who lift their heavy heads as the hills outside the window
flare gold for a moment before they turn
on their sides and bare their creased backs.

Even the cut flowers in a jar of water lift
their soon to be dead heads and open
their eyes, even they want a few more sips,
to dwell here, in paradise, a few days longer.

—Dorianne Laux, "I Never Wanted to Die," originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 16, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.