A Poem by Logan February
Author: Poetry Editor
May 21, 2019
This week, a poem by Logan February.
My shirt is dancing around my body,
so I think maybe today is the day.
If I could count the degrees, I would.
But let’s just say it’s been a really hot
week. A hibiscus wilted & a truck
flipped over & a hummingbird died.
It was so small, its endless colors pooling
around its feathers. I was too scared
to run my pale thumb across its beak.
Lately, I’ve been very afraid. I think
it’s the violence, mostly, but also, my pills
aren’t working. Any good doctor would see
me & ask if I’ve heard of euthanasia.
I imagine I’d run out of his office naked, with
my hair tousled. I’m afraid, too, of dying.
The world is ending itself anyway. If I could
count the time, I’m not sure I would. Just
look up, watch for the steady strike of lightning.
It’s pretty scary, isn’t it? But also, it’s pretty.
I’m thinking awful things again — rattlesnakes
coiled around the crackling power lines.
Hold me, Doctor. Show me your mercy.
LOGAN FEBRUARY is a Nigerian poet and the Associate Director of Winter Tangerine’s Dovesong Labs. Their debut collection, Mannequin in The Nude (PANK Books, 2019), was a finalist for the Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets. They and their work have been featured in The Guardian Life, Washington Square Review, The Southeast Review, The Adroit Journal, ANMLY, and more.