9/32

Leave a comment

June 22, 2017 by The Citron Review

by Danielle Hale

 

Someday, I will use nine months to grow another body. My blood will pump through her veins, visible through paper-thin skin, fueling the formation of slender-fingered hands like mine, flat feet like my mother’s, lips like my grandmother’s the color of rose petals, ears that already recognize my voice as I murmur my grandfather’s bedtime stories. These cells, plump with nutrients, will feed her until I open, a nesting doll releasing a smaller self.

She will no longer rely on blood from my body. But her blood falls short of quantum, white-washing her, erasing heritage that has flowed through generations since before white consumed. As easily as flame on dry wood. And though she’ll know how to fry bologna, and why the turtle’s shell is patterned, when I gaze at her eyes the color of the sky and her hair like spiraling sun,

I will weep,
I will weep,
I will weep,
I will weep
for our fade to white.

 

Danielle Hale is an emerging poet who developed her love of poetry while study creative writing. Her poems grapple with the pressures of being a mixed-race woman, including the simultaneous feelings of acceptance and alienation from multiple societies. Danielle received her MA from the University of North Dakota and currently resides in Bemidji, MN.

 

Advertisements
«

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

🍋10th Anniversary

Fall 2019 IssueSeptember 23rd, 2019
5 months to go.

🍋 Instagram

Robert Carr’s “Anchor” is what happens when the tangible aspects of heritage are missing. The speaker is left holding a telephone cord and the remnants of his mother’s voice getting further away. A concise stack of images begin the poem, taking us back to a time when the simplicity of toys meant family. In Carr’s hands, the poem is rooted and rootless at the same time, and now I reflect on the rotary phone, heirlooms from old houses, and my people. -Eric Steineger Managing Editor/Senior #amreading #TheCitronReview #Spring2019Issue #10thanniversary #cheersto10years https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/anchor/
The Center, if it holds, requires the Hole, as if the Spiral were pressed in a vinyl disk. Set the heart of Nothing on the spindle and start the record round; "Record" by James B. Nicola #TheCitronReview #Spring2019 #amreading https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/record/
Marriage! That blessed arrangement! https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/white-wedding/ #amreading #microfiction #weddingstories
Now in our Spring Issue, Helen Chambers invites us to read now of forever hold our peace. https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/spring-wedding/ #amreading #microfiction #weddingstories
Knitters of the world, unite! "Turtles" is a needle-gripping flash from @kaelyhorton . March with us toward passionate prose. (Stitching now our handmade Spring 2019 Issue.) https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/turtles/ #amreading #flashfiction
Tornado of Flash Fiction Warning! https://citronreview.com/2019/03/20/outside-of-oklahoma/ #amreading #Spring2019 #TheCitronReview #cheerstotenyears

Enter your email address to follow us and receive notifications of new issues by email.

%d bloggers like this: