Salome Magazine
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LAce Posted Monday, March 31st, 2003
Fort Hill
Jarrod Hood

sun standard and in decline
the afternoon is dull pain
behind the eyes
with air that drapes
knee length wet and woolen
a winter coat for august

she arrives with lemons
that are hard and dry
and works them into a carafe

each cell surrenders to the knife
trickles its holdings through
a wire mesh
thin milk yellow
and collected in glass

there is no sugar
nor ice
the drink will be warm and sour
and hang all evening
less dense
and scent suspended
in the kitchen's saturated swelter

Comments [post a comment]

Posted by Megan Gillespie [ ] on Wednesday, April 2nd, 2003 at 5:53 PM
Masterfully understated -- good use of white space and on-target images. The first one about the weather's pretty bizarre but I like it -- it manages the mixed metaphor nicely. This poem reminds me of Sloe Gin by S. Heany (which you should read if you haven't, any/everybody). Makes one curious about the she, but also oddly satisfied by this lucid photograph of her through the speaker's quiet eye -- the encapsulated moment, loaded but complete. The true lyric -- it's great. But here's a hint for future reference to avoid possible embarassment: Capital letters are these larger versions of the small ones that generally happen at the beginning of sentences or thoughts. . . nyuk nyuk.

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