I wouldn’t mind missing the fast train home. I’ll stay with the woman sitting by the baskets of Anjou & Bosc pears: she smudged her house with smoking sage to cleanse it, & yet, she still had to flee. Two Russian Blues play at her feet, eat from a can. She’s named them both Smokey: they are brothers. Gentle brother Smokey. Green-eyed Smokey. The produce here is gold, & there is lavender. Bins of gold winter fruit. Lavender, dried & sober. I want to stay here, folded, shameless.
Jennifer Martelli is the author of The Uncanny Valley (Big Table Publishing, 2016) and My Tarantella (Bordighera Press, 2018). Her work has appeared or will appear in The Superstition Review, Sugar House, The Bitter Oleander, Thrush, Carve, Glass Poetry Journal, Cleaver, The Heavy Feather Review, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal. She has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes and is the recipient of the Massachusetts Cultural Council Grant in Poetry. She is the co-curator for The Mom Egg VOX Folio.