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Tag Archives: Maya Renaud-Levine
This One About the English Countryside
Hilltop, we clung with red-cold fingers, burnished cheeks and foreheads, scarves and orange peels swinging from our pockets. Here, where there are a thousand kinds of quiet: leaky morning, re- heated soup, tomato or chicken or onion. Carpeted steps, the … Continue reading
august, after lunch
legs splayed beneath the neck of the cherry tree you told me tales of last month when the fruit were ripe as rain, as breasts, as tender fisted eyes you gutted with bloody hands. how instead, we scooped finger-fulls of … Continue reading
pick & choose
pluck my green unripeness finger & thumb stained revolve me & examine how I shiver on your petaled tongue – held & unembraced soured youth & curdled gums a pinch for tender- ness, ripened weak & gushing & sweet & … Continue reading
Threnody
No fingers remove the husk Unscathed. In death the spines Of fish still purple cheeks. It’s the unspooling, reaching Back with blackened hands that Crosses time. Recall, softening Edges of mailboxes with Banana leaves. Smearing golden Grounds of coffee in … Continue reading
here and there
i never used to parse through words this way, turning them in my hands like pearls. palming the muscled backs of trees, listening for breath, for something slightly parted. how still, life remains in boxes, on cold sidewalks, on sagging … Continue reading
Listening to the Audiobook of The Bluest Eye
i am sitting hands-on-knees upturned the voice of Toni Morrison Herself is laying words like pearls in palms – fists behind my ears and heels. mama has fingers one-and-two on temple aimed up, parting question from conclusion as they slide … Continue reading
mother existed primarily over email
we made pilgrimage to Club Pardes for a ten-course breakfast, this time cucumbers, scallions, radish salad with sour cream, political correctness, abortion, it could have been anything, and it was only tuesday and six a.m. coffee takes guts. we talked … Continue reading
Salutations from the Inside
alligator jawed – that sinewy snap realization that after all this time two wrongs do make a right and other stories whispered by seashells (who have since gone mouthless) like the movies or good pain or you have potential which … Continue reading