autumn convalescence
the egg smells like honey in this reversal.
its membrane-entrails hang thick and loose
off broken shell. this life wails
like a surveillance helicopter.
i quiet my thigh with a warm palm—
trying to flatten this new nerve
erupting in habitual pulses
at three, just when
i begin to remember you
the afternoon transforms into an achy
yellow. but maybe it’s the smell of trees
dying along kelly drive, the light like freedom.
this time of blood on the leaves and fingers
sticky with crimson sap.
Copyright Credit: Victoria Stitt, "autumn convalescence" from The Carolina Quarterly, Fall 2021, Vol. 71, No. 1. Copyright © 2021 by Victoria Stitt. Reprinted by permission of Victoria Stitt.
Source: The Carolina Quarterly, Fall 2021, Vol. 71, No. 1 (The Carolina Quarterly, 2021)