Joy, Death and CreamBrandon Shimoda
~ Joy The figs have all been eaten and she watches the perfect leaves imperfect. Children come home more often than they used to, shedding their enormity at the door. Beneath, they are list and skinniness. Tell me about what grows you, daughter, dropping with as much intention as the fruits she ate. ~ Death Work, then death, and then wonder: the day brings her from the angled freeze of thought, to her seat on the train, south along the coast. Gold and grit particle. Out the window, the sight of so many people in the waves; waiting and catching a wave makes her blue with longing; waiting is work. ~ Cream She comes out of nowhere wearing a skirt of ice and a blouse of air. Made stronger by myth and 14%!b(MISSING)utterfat. Separated from us by pine trees and lights, diffused through height and wet. In the moment when she frosts us with a single light, we are illuminated, to caution against her.
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