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.