One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

Show & Tell

Shahé Mankerian

This poem was first published in Contemporary Verse 2, Summer 2024 (Vol. 47, No. 1)

To Lucille Clifton

José lifted a rabbit from a corroded cage

and said, “This is Jesús. We found him

sleeping among the dead daffodils.”

Elizabeth asked us to cover our ears

“Because Beethoven was deaf,” she said

as “Ode to Joy” squeaked on her violin.

I clapped the loudest because on the first

day of school Liz braided my shoelaces

with hers. Mrs. Honzay poked my forearm

with a pen, “Settle down,” she whispered.

Sweaty Mika wore his father’s space suit.

Selma uttered from her wobbly desk,

“He even smells like an alien.” When I stood

in front of the blackboard, nauseous,

with nothing fancy to share, I raised

my trembling hands shoulder high.

“I was born with twelve fingers,” I said,

“and I have the scars to prove it.”

More from Shahé Mankerian ↓

• @shahemankerian on Instagram
• His book: History of Forgetfulness published by the Fly on the Wall Press

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.