I was a child for a minute
born playing house under summer sun
heartbeats steeped in
gardenia & lavender blood.
I tested my mortality at the playground
& broke an elbow. He tested
my childhood my thighs and won.
fairytales new moon eclipsed by
summered fools
gold: Too late to write
a love song the bite and the burn
of black cherry ice pops already stained
to my pink lips. Blood clots, Broken
bones heal against steel
August knows I've been touched by the ghost
hungry for apple and pomegranate.
If I am Eve, that boy is the fallen star.
forgive my sweet tooth. I couldn't resist his
fig-filled wing-shaped
feather light wound. Traded my soul for
a drink of nectar in the heat of the desert, where surviving
girlhood looks a lot like war.
*for the best experience reading this poem in its intended form, please read on a desktop computer.
Kait Quinn
Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. She is the author of four poetry collections, and her work appears in Anti-Heroin Chic, Exposition Review, Reed Magazine, Watershed Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize. Kait is anEditorial Associate at Yellow Arrow Publishing and a poetry reader for Black Fox Literary Magazine. She enjoys cats,repetition, coffee shops, tattoos, and vegan breakfast. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner and their very polite Aussie mix. Find her at kaitquinn.com.
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