ONE POEM by LIVIA MENEGHIN

Ars Poetica [Interrupted], Starting With a Strawberry & Ending With a Tongue

strawberry slices & the knife [sleep] remain on the cutting [gmail inbox] [administrative forms] board. she is kissing my [flu] finger, wrapping her [flu shot] lips around me before [the 9-5] a bandaid. [depression] her hands carry the sharp of [a cancer diagnosis] mint. she was scissoring some stems off our little plant from our terrace when she heard me yelp. i only wanted [coordinating events] [trying to sell books] [applying for funding] [applying for residencies] [applying for fellowships] to make us a salad, wanted to feel like my body would not take [submitting] [submitting] [submitting] [submitting] [submitting] any effort. she then insisted i sit. she kissed my [still bookmarking tabs for submitting] forehead & finished the treat. i have an instinct to feel like a failure when i make a mistake. [footage of genocide on social media] but it is she who reminds me i am worth tenderness & i am able to be loved. she who is my bed during a summer night’s thunderstorm. her eyes light up the next day when i suggest we walk on the beach, which is to say [grieving a death] she [grieving another death] reminds me of the sun & everything she touches shines sweet like the reflection of a strawberry in the metal of a knife. [re-traumatization when your twin is diagnosed with the same cancer you survived] she offers me a small star from a bowl she’s holding before we go, which is to say a gooseberry, & i accept [kissing her] by opening [kissing her] my mouth. she takes my hand, bandaid fresh off, [kissing her] & i imagine myself [kissing her all over] the tang of the fruit popping between her teeth & tongue.


Livia Meneghin (she/her) is the author of feathering and Honey in My Hair. She is Cofounder and Managing Editor at Two Cardinals Literary. At Sundress Publications, she serves as Assistant Chapbook Editor. Since earning her MFA in poetry, she teaches writing and literature at the collegiate level. She is a cancer survivor.

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FOUR POEMS by AARON RACHEL SELBY