Monday, May 11, 2020

Poem During the Plague: Poem 37

Tim Suermondt

 Tim Suermondt is the author of five full-length collections of poems, the latest JOSEPHINE BAKER SWIMMING POOL  from MadHat Press, 2019. He has published in Poetry, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, The Georgia Review, Bellevue Literary Review, Stand Magazine, december magazine, On the Seawall and Plume, among many others. He lives in Cambridge (MA) with his wife, the poet Pui Ying Wong.

EASTER, 2020

No poet can write a better Easter poem
Than the one by Yeats—Connolly and Pearse
Have nothing to worry about. And with
The pressure off I can write simply of the return
Of the sun, and while waiting for a sort of daily
Resurrection of things recall how in my thirties
I walked from Queens to Manhattan and back
Just because I could. Outside the empty churches
Saints must be lingering, having already made
The condition into a form of art for centuries.
“How is your poem coming?” my wife, who’s
Boiling eggs in the kitchen, says. “I’ll ask a saint,”
Leaving her and them as confused by the answer
As I am, adding a dab more of the sun before I finish.


  1. So purely said, this Easter's sun rising on a New York city morning.Bridget Seley Galway