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This Week
people I know have died and people
whose language I don’t understand
have died and parents of children
I’ll never meet are gone into the open
arms of the sky and the sea and their
sons and daughters with them how
can this happen again and still always
why can’t we stop it how can we stand it
and keep ourselves upright baking bread
tuning Volvos guitars kissing laughing
how can we possibly laugh washing
and folding the winding sheets
~~~
The Northeast Edge of Normal
Fear amputations body bags heartbreak
after 529 nights tell me what is the name
for a constant mix of rage and sorrow?
A Dust Storm Warning haboob harmattan
is now in effect for east central Illinois
until 6:45 adjacent to the northeast edge
of Normal. Children as usual and their
parents grandfathers second cousins
one after another each lineage erased
nurses tending until the hospital walls
collapse 400 dead in Gaza today an off-
duty baggage clerk sent these photos
from outside the Bloomington Airport
visibility only a quarter mile. Close
your windows tight to avoid the damage.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Molly Fisk

Molly Fisk’s many books include a collection of humorous essays Naming your Teeth. Her book of linked poems set in 1875, Walking Wheel, is forthcoming in March, 2026 from Red Hen Press.
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That question: “How can we possibly”–I could add just about anything from this gift of my life 😭
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This Week – I held my breath till the end. Powerful.
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Oh, I did too…
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Molly Fisk manages to write books in short, powerful poems. She sings the song of pain, of our helplessness, of destruction and death – without ever mention any of those monsters by name. That’s a special art.
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Yes, she has a special talent.
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“What a poem “This Week” is! I have read the poem over and over again — in one long exhale. Stephen Dobyns used to call certain poems he loved “noisy” — not only for their alliterations or assonances, but for their emotional intensity or energy or, in this case, their organized chaos. These are noisy poems, Molly — and that’s a compliment. Bravo.
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Thank you, Laure-Anne. It’s a great concept. xo
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Noisy. I like that.
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There is no window to close. Its all damage dear Molly—every breath. Can we be reconciled to this world?
I honestly don’t know. It has become for me a place of letting go. Its probably always been so. I just didn’t yet know.
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Thanks, Sean.
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That’s the question, Sean. And the answer. But also, for me, to try to keep witnessing as best I can.
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