by Shira Dentz

the watermelon you brought home
is a satisfying lug
its smooth down-
ward tug
echoing shadows
inside
you lifting now
spreading
outward like pleats
the ball’s weight
centerless
speaks in
slow descent
twinning
with your gut
to shades of loss
expressed
in rounds
with each strong
slope to the ground
still
you carry the orb
like a baby
and place it
on a surface
to cut
before
its fruit rots.

Shira Dentz is the author of five books including Sisyphusina (Astrophil Press), winner of the Eugene Paul Nassar Prize, and two chapbooks including FLOUNDERS (Essay Press). Her writing appears in Poetry, APR, Iowa Review, Conjunctions, Blackbird, VOLT, New American Writing, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Brooklyn Rail, Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day (Poets.org), Verse Daily, Poetry Daily, and NPR. She’s received awards from the Academy of American Poets and Poetry Society of America. More at shiradentz.com