"Brimful": Link is working!

The link to my poem, "Brimful," is now working!

"Brimful"

"Brimful" was published today by Egg Poetry! Egg poetry sends out a weekly email with one poem to contemplate during the week; the email has come, but the archive hasn't been updated yet. When it does, I will post the link on the blog.

The experience with Egg has been marvelous for my first poem published by a wholly-online publication. After submitting my poem, within a week the editor had already contacted me about publishing. And two days later, my poem appeared in Egg. As simple as that. I would that a tenth of all my submitted poems underwent an experience like this.

Callum and Adelee


Callum and Adelee

Leaving a trail behind it, the universe rolls to a stop in the dirt.
An orange, a lopsided memory from childhood
Now lies between them. They stand between buildings
Crumbling down, a decrepit wasteland. Callum
Wipes threads of sweat from his forehead. No tears
Fall during this draining, reeling, thirsty battle.

It hadn’t been too many years since a battle
Ravaged the city, turning it into a universe of dirt,
Dry, dusty, parched. The new world, baptized in dirt, tears
Families apart, negates bonds formed in earliest childhood.
Adelee, born two minutes before her brother Callum,
With club in hand now stands in front of the old hospital building.

They are undone in front of an orange instead of building
Shelters, moving on, struggling in the new battle
For survival, to remain intact. In a sudden passion Callum
Pushes Adelee down, rolling her hard down into the dirt
Like they once did in the sandbox, playgrounds. Childhood
Was so long ago – not in hours, but in number of tears.

A long ago morning, delight so hard they dissolve in tears.
Brother and sister each hold one orange. The tenement building
Is warm today, mirthful, happy, for childhood
Makes everything right. Each sucking an orange, they battle
Together his wood truck, her cloth dinosaur. No dirt
Gathers in the cracks of the toys of Adelee and Callum.

She doesn’t rise; he seizes the time. Punch, punch, Callum’s
Fist is relentless and holds no gentle touch now. Tears
Spring to her eyes, her cheeks. Her face, bloodying the dirt,
Is crumpled, lopsided like the orange. Across the ground the building
Stares emptily, lights gone out. It’s over, her battle,
And she lays to rest his claims to their childhood.

The memories are draining with the blood, of a childhood
In which an orange was a universe. Callum
Bites into its curve, spoils of this last and final battle.
Nothing ever tasted so wet and bitter, so empty of desire. Tears
Now fall through the air onto the dusty ground. Buildings
Offer no shelter from the blood and water that quenches the dirt.

The final battle over, no more desire, no more tears
In their family. One day, Callum and the buildings
Will tumble, just like Adelee and their childhood, into the dirt.

All for an orange – what used to be a universe.


This poem originally appeared in the Scripps College Journal, Spring 2012.

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