POEM OF THE DAY: Andy Young's "Aubade under the I-10"

In celebration of the release of the most recent issue of drafthorse, in which you will find my interview with poet Andy Young, I thought I would post one of her poems today––one of my favorites (very hard to choose) from her wonderfully moving 2014 collection All Night It Is Morning. I highly recommend this book. To learn more about it, and about Andy, check out the interview. And check out the whole issue, too (you won't be disappointed)!

AUBADE UNDER THE 1-10

New Orleans, 2006

Tomorrow we'll pick our wheels, our home:

a Bug, a Benz––more space to stretch––

a van if nothing's already living in it.

For the hour we've got, let's lie down

in this Cadillac, a half empty whiskey

bottle, a bottle of Busiprone, some prayer

beads, a candle, what more do you want

on this lowdown, flea-bitten night,

shattered glass in the moonlight like stars?

Ducks nest in the rubble of the floodwall,

sunflowers root in the muck. Soon

daytime and cops will come creeping,

sirens circle and howl. Let's moan

to the yelp of the levee dogs,

windows yawning as cars fly above.