Poetry Fiction Issue

The Believer

More

I hadn’t wanted to believe myself
Numbered among the unlucky ones.
There’d always seemed an arrogance in that
Of which my superstition made me wary.
Nor was the title very accurate.
In fact it seemed a blessing or a talent
Sometimes, or its own kind of deeper luck,
The way I walked into each suffering
Which was its own intricate world complete
With wild children wrangling to be king
Of every broken square of concrete
And market stalls of shrimp kept cool on ice
Whose infinitesimal limbs caught light
As if hauled glittering into genesis.

Danielle Chapman is a poet and critic living in Chicago. Her writing appears regularly in Poetry and The Chicago Tribune.
Jump to comments
Presented by
Get Today's Top Stories in Your Inbox (preview)

CrossFit Versus Yoga: Choose a Side

How a workout becomes a social identity


Join the Discussion

After you comment, click Post. If you’re not already logged in you will be asked to log in or register. blog comments powered by Disqus

Video

CrossFit Versus Yoga: Choose a Side

How a workout becomes a social identity

Video

Is Technology Making Us Better Storytellers?

The minds behind House of Cards and The Moth weigh in.

Video

A Short Film That Skewers Hollywood

A studio executive concocts an animated blockbuster. Who cares about the story?

Video

In Online Dating, Everyone's a Little Bit Racist

The co-founder of OKCupid shares findings from his analysis of millions of users' data.

Video

What Is a Sandwich?

We're overthinking sandwiches, so you don't have to.

Video

Let's Talk About Not Smoking

Why does smoking maintain its allure? James Hamblin seeks the wisdom of a cool person.

Writers

Up
Down

More in Entertainment

More back issues, Sept 1995 to present.

Just In