3/3/24 12:47pm
Reflections of childhood combust in the sink as I graze the grass of those I’ve lost /
Preserved are the memories within skins of grapes / make this water into wine / or put yourself at risk in the process of human touch /
It won’t always ring in your ears like a bassoon with the anger of every father ever born /
Light of the seventh day should cure this child /
Blink at each sound
A full beard and handfuls of sorrow / how the rivers
pour against stones as a we flutter through /
Consumed by elements / We bite the flesh of Spain with strengths of 1936 /
swallow as I clap / undress as I snap /
Darkness comes on the eighth day you see / when he gathers the ribs of your children / Framed are the wines we look to
for proper reflection
— ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
22 | Chicago
ig: l1vyzzzz & lntlmate
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3/1/24 10:48pm
3/1/24 10:48pm I’ve Grown Feet This Month and when my teeth become too brittle to take on shards of ice, I will rely on those who whittled them down, suckling at citrus from the vines of motherhood, beckoning a wife, a woman whose lips curl in agony but showcase content, like a curtain closing each breath, the burning on my knees leading me to water, I remember this, I know these chips, I taste this wire wrapped tightly around each stem, fingering the seeds like little tiny bones, a man in the corner, telling us he has lived here all his life, grown to foot the shores and eye the birds, swallow shards whole, because they will melt in the end
By Olivia Dodge3 months ago in Poets
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