“Summer on Neptune” by Jessica Kagansky


Take me up in the white wicker house

with faded linen curtains and

conceal us from the girlish earth.

By anticipation our actions create

more chaos and color than sitting

out by the redwood fence, with white-green

barnacles clasping its lengths—

there do the babies doll.


There do they doll and dawdle,

their antediluvian holograms in

starched bonnets and pinafores

watching the green slopes of

the mountains curve and spill

into the fir trees

the wetness of the early morning

grass coursing strangely up their

calves to seal the purity in,

the grace, the eerie, lacy reverence

for something that will never touch them


Let the baby girls doll and let us

ignite, percolate, slink up like satin spiders

hot as hearth flames all the way up until

we graze the turgid moon


Poems curated by FORTH poetry editors.

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