Poem of the Day
The Grand Conversation
By Paul Muldoon
She. My people came from Korelitz
where they grew yellow cucumbers
and studied the Talmud.
He. Mine pored over the mud
of mangold- and potato-pits
or flicked through kale plants from Comber
as bibliomancers of old
went a-flicking through deckle-mold.
She. Mine would lie low in the shtetl
when...
A note from the editor: “Happy birthday, Paul Muldoon! I chose this one by the brilliant Irish wordsmith because I rarely see a contemporary poem in dialogue form and in this day and age, a dialogue between two loving, married writers from different faiths and different lands refreshes the spirit. So, apparently Muldoon is a Gemini: maybe that explains the quick-witted double-voicedness in this poem.” - Guest editor Sarah Ruhl.
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