And the Winner is . . . Poem Category

24 Jun

Congrats to Jane, who won the First-and-a-Half Annual Short Fiction Contest Poetry category with her sestina “blue daisies”

Check it out:

blue daisies

july passed as humid months do,

stagnant with clammy air and throats

parched in moisture-ridden breeze.

we spent our days drawing blue

daisies in the air with our tongues, wandering

fingers over grass until the blades swallow

our hands whole. we watch and swallow

questions we promised to ask and pretend we do

not remember. instead, our wandering

minds find stories that bubble from our throats–

the halloween our mouths tasted of blue

raspberry for a week; the week van was so sick a breeze

set him shivering and to shield him from the breeze

we penguin huddled him home; broken nests and the swallow

alex found and raised and we buried together, blue

stones on the earth for her to mourn; the way bruises do

fade over time but their memory crushed across throats

does not (this, we do not say, but our wandering

hands reach through the grass for frannie, and her wandering

fingers stretch back). the summer breeze

passes by and we talk through the questions in our throats,

telling stories of when we dared andrew to swallow

the expired milk at lunch, and he said he’d do

it if only to get out of class – but it wasn’t the blue

carton that sent him home, it was the flu. we brought blue

daisies when we visited, and left as four more wandering

students sent home sick. our stories overflow as memories do,

and only when we have none left to breeze

through do we swallow

and think about how parched our throats

are. we have only stories bubbling from our throats,

and though july has always been humid, the blue

of this sky seems the same as the last, as if between one swallow

and the next no time has passed and we are still wandering

through memories, still in the same moisture-ridden breeze

from when we were younger. we do

not ask how much longer our throats will fill with wandering

memories. we swallow, breathe clammy air and the breeze,

and talk of blue daisies passes as humid months do.

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