Sunrise in Germany
		
	The Dresden sun rises as a milkmaid
	Busty and grain-feed

	With its shiny shoes clinking,
	And the great eye twinkling

	In the distant summit
	Bounding as a fawn.

	My eyes revert with fear,
	And I want to crack

	Open that sweet embryo
	Climbing high in the noon

	To scoop out its’ innards,
	And knit with its’ rays

	A sweater to never leave me –
	A heart-song to never decay.

 

 

	Summer is

	tangerine slices 
	quartered for sharing 
	tangy and needled with juice
	cooked in simple syrups 
	the swell of hot spices 
	in our pitted tongues
	stinging war drums beet-beet 
	low, unbolted
	over the silky grasses, between ridged hills
	dirt mound clavicles heaving
	churning as butter in mud and water,
	and beyond them great beasts
	of thunder swirl 
	taffy in a factory that my fingers want to braid,
	and the days stretch out to thin, gray lines 
	traversing between thumb and finger 
	whistling  the reed of my home. 
	Again, 
	the fall-ships are flanking 
	upon our spirits’ welled in summer blushes 
	rowing on top if leaf-waves;
	their harmonic voices
	sickly, as the human condition goes  
	daffodils shoot with gaunt blooms from ears,
	and gaping mouths grasp at the mother bird, 
	hoping to gobble the lull of summer once more.

 

 

Amanda McQuade attended Ohio State University where she earned her B.A. in English, concentrating in American Literature. Her work has recently appeared, or is forthcoming in, The Cherry Blossom Review, Silenced Press and silent actor. Currently, she resides in Los Angeles with her writing-partner and husband, Matt.