Photo by Vitaly Kushnir
I hold the umbilical stem
between pinched fingers,
in the air plucked silence.
What hangs is Anjou,
the u of my cupped hand
beneath to catch.
Imagine origin:
full-leaf cultivar—
seed, fruit, flesh-cut, seed.
Inverted, womb-like,
means grasp open fingers.
Means teardrop.
Let me see
what I never thought of
as pear:
dull view dense flesh
black, gray, white
wave rising on an ultrasound.
Me looking for myself.
Let me think of it now—
womb as pear—the taste.
Eaten whole
what dangles is core.
Rootstock.
*
Rootstock.
What dangles is core,
eaten whole.
Womb as pear—the taste,
let me think of it now—.
Me looking for myself.
Wave rising on an ultrasound,
black, gray, white
dull view dense flesh
as pear:
what I never thought of
let me see.
Means teardrop.
Means grasp open fingers,
inverted, womb-like,
seed, fruit, flesh-cut, seed.
Full-leaf cultivar—
imagine origin: pear tree—
beneath to catch,
the u of my cupped hand.
What hangs is Anjou
in the air plucked silence.
Between pinched fingers,
I hold the umbilical stem.
Eleanor Kedney is the author of Between the Earth and Sky (C&R Press, 2020), a finalist for the 2021 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards and the 2020 Best Book Awards. She is also the author of the chapbook The Offering (Liquid Light Press, 2016). Her poems have appeared in journals, magazines, and anthologies, including Miramar Poetry Journal, New Ohio Review, Pedestal Magazine, and Under a Warm Green Linden. Kedney is the recipient of the 2019 riverSedge Poetry Prize (University of Texas Rio Grande Valley) and a finalist in the 2020 Mslexia Poetry Competition. Learn more at eleanorkedney.com.
JMWW 