flowers breathe their ardor
clouds nudge me closer
my body--full like fruit--
is sticky as joy
it finds the wild impatience
of my unfurled heart
it knows what has happened:
I felt myself precious
and know I can meet myself
at every return
_________________________
After a week of being unable to hold a storyline in my head, I found two excellent reads.
The 57 Bus was a genre I didn't even know existed--YA
nonfiction. It starts with a sleeping agender teenager being set on fire, and if you told me at that point that I'd be crying for anyone else in that book, I'd not have believed you. Yesterday I started
The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida (2022 Booker) as a sort of prep/procrastination before I read
Brotherless Night (2024 Women's Prize), which has the same political timeframe and framework. I know
Brotherless Night will be heartbreaking for what it documents and also because I witnessed how long and difficult the writing process was for VVG (SG). Anyway,
The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida begins
with the protagonist's experience of a post-death afterworld and gave me nightmares after having been at the hospital last week. But the writing was so layered and so, so,
so good I couldn't stop. Just brilliant.
Pic: JN shared this pic of her summer--a cocktail of butterflies, bees, flowers, blue sky, and clouds--it made me pretty buzzy.