"Aphids toiled brittle stems as we met the dike to rob snakehead buds of their fruit. I gathered persimmons, podgy maypops. You puckered, sucked seeds, tannins, the half-ripe pulp half-glossy, sicksweet. Down lying in crowds of dry grasses, your warm legs pile beads of sweat. Even our silken fruits offer their wet to afternoon sky. Oh darling, this impartial land has grown strange in our rocky"
"stasis blossomed, praising the mercury toward higher altars. May our attention be a means of staving off the future guaranteed. This Earth is hardly born, has barely seen beyond the nearest light-veils and when it wakes it will not cry. It will yawn, it will pour. We may be stuffed underground or briefly shielded in valleys. Love, may we make this day. Love, give me lips and noses, skin parting tangy skin."
Two people forage and eat half-ripe persimmons and maypops among aphid-ridden brittle stems and dry grasses, sharing warmth and sweat. Sensual, bodily imagery intertwines with the land as silken fruits and tangy skin describe physical closeness. The landscape shifts from rocky stasis into a strange blossoming while mercury rises toward higher altars, implying environmental upheaval. The speaker fears a guaranteed, transformative future in which Earth yawns and pours, possibly burying or sheltering humans. The plea to make the day together emphasizes urgency, desire, and the hope that attention and love can hold off impending change.
Read at The Atlantic
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