person Trish Hopkinson, two poems

Trish Hopkinson has authored three chapbooks and has been published in several anthologies and journals, including Tinderbox, Pretty Owl Poetry, and The Penn Review. You can follow Hopkinson on her blog where she shares information on how to write, publish, and participate in the greater poetry community at



                glowing golden
                                                            from my tongue
against verdant orchard
                                                          so ready-just
              your slight sway
                                                          my touch loosens
          heavy with nectar
                                                          you from the stem
              your sweetness
                                                          am i greedy
    barely held in—warm
                                                          as the charmed
          as lemon beeswax
                                                          raven who filled
              in polka-dot sun
                                                          its belly with you? or worse,
  i imagine your passage
                                                          the brother who took
            from fruit to seed
                                                          more than he could hold,
      seed to fruit, the leaf
                                                          then fell, dying
                          & the root
                                                          from wing to sea?
                      pushing you
                                                          such myths nod
        into lavender bells
                                                          at your ancient
            the pollen calling
                                                          relation to Eden
for its lovers—the bees’
                                                          my newness
    footprints dust ovary
                                                          & inconsequence
          & ovule—longing
                                                          i should slice
                                                          you tenderly
                      am i selfish
                                                          with my knife
            for wanting you?
                                                          but instead
  my hand places fingers
                                                          i carve you
            & thumb in each
                                                          with my teeth
          of your pentagram
                                                          & juice drips
                    folds, supple
                                                          from where
                      & tempting
                                                          lips form
              tart of summer
                                                          my brute
                quench of rain
              mere moments



I leave the blood nest; ancestry does not warrant,
association does not bind me to breast

or covert—sparrows tumble from my throat,
let loose—flutter around the room,

peck the floorboards for seeds, flick their beaks
and bony tongues at gnats swarming

a bowl of softened pomegranates. I clasp
my jaw and refuse to let them

back in, refuse any acceptance—not even a sparrow
falls to the ground without some godly consent

of too many years flown. I leave them all
behind the bolted door to perish.



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