By K. Lewis
You remind me Of a very gentle little girl I once watched picking flowers —Sappho
When my hands come away red I’ll pour kojic honey into the holes in my palms where thistle thorns drew blood Soft sweet and rosy-fingered (like the chronicled Selenian woman) I’ll chase the harshness of bitter citrus from my body and shoo away sly Aphrodite (soft as she is) and sit and weave beside my mother I’ll encase myself in resin so my bones outgrow my skin and let me burst so my insides leave stains and all that remains may be a very gentle little girl picking flowers
K. Lewis is a poet and fiction writer from New York. Her last work, Panem et Circenses, was published in Wintermute Literary Magazine, and she is currently working on her very first novel. When she isn’t mapping out subplots, K can be found attempting (and failing) to learn to crochet or rewatching The Truman Show for the hundredth time. She will be attending McGill University in Montréal in the fall. Follow her on Twitter @auuaiek !