Poetry: Contest Winner
Blood Poem
Audrey Gidman
—Nature, here is what I understand: fear slows down good growth and evisceration means blood. I leave the bookshelf blue as unborn veins. * There is an Easter bloodrush between my thighs and April snowstorm pushed up against the white-laced-kitchen curtains and I feel like a red chert arrowhead in a sack of quartz marked .99 cents at some pocket shop. I watch too many trees to see if they move, open the refrigerator over and over and nothing changes. * The sun is early afternoon high in the window, streaming white lace onto her cheeks. When I tell my sister I feel like a pomegranate sometimes she laughs— says I am implying the presence of seeds but I think of Vera Pavlova:
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