Poetry

Quince season

our kitchen turns rosaries of light

in ginger and lemon

outside      the fib of things fading down

our evergreen seasons      hot torn sage

and tarragon      a basilica of basil

the neighbour one over

has hitched his jet ski to his ride-on

mower      tests the weather of both

sweet earth under nails

smells not like first love

     but what comes later

syngonium in jars string a new arrow

every two days

back in the kitchen      I peel and you core

their rough middles          and I mix up

cartouche with the hieroglyph

     ritualising greaseproof

we go upstairs in the afternoon steam

while the quince      unsupervised

     poaches pink and tender

Get the latest essay, memoir, reportage, fiction, poetry and more.

Subscribe to Griffith Review or purchase single editions here.

Griffith Review