Why not make this #TodaysPoem.

Here's "Figs" by Henri Cole:

Overnight the figs got moldy and look like little brains—
or Ids without structure—that say something dark
about our species not really laying down a garden
but living out the violent myths.
An insect chorus, almost diaphanous
in a neighbor’s yard, says something, too:
_America began in tall ships that glowed from within,_
_but, for the wretched, it still wretchedeth every day._
As the bright day goes around the sun,
why do our days grow
more aggressive and difficult?
Why do the world’s shadows
come so close
as its wonders beckon?

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Listen to this episode of the New Yorker Poetry Podcast to hear Henri Cole read this poem, along with a beautiful poem by Louise Glück, "Vita Nova."

#HenriCole #Poetry