by Emalene Lillipore
semi-tropical
oyster shell alleys laid with heat
swallowed up by lantana
banana canopy
avocado oak some mulberry a sad pine or two
yard dogs pace
two houses down ladies doing laundry
radio salsa fania catalog marathon
someone cooking turtle beans
morning fragrant
with shoulder we sit under old navel oranges
limbed up for shade
on milk crates
box fan extension cord
no ac no phone no tv burning flower through noon
making coffee in a moka pot
sitting outside
to escape heat borrowing neighbors rhythms
we spent our youth
coin of necessity we spent
what we had hand to mouth
tomorrow is a privilege
of the whole
access isn’t a gate white tablecloth
clean silver rolled in a napkin tomorrow
is the promise redeemed better than
cash money
she takes her tea with sugar and milk
scalded sometimes
demitasse for me
medium sweet cafeteria grind with chicory
somehow it’s the same people defining us
out of text drinking pods of fuck knows
what
sparkling malice or bones of the houseless
ground to a fine meal
we were questioned
with bad intent interrogated on our eating habits
some healthy initiatives that offer no dental as another
abscess forms beneath eye
another tooth they’ll come for
there was no money for books
there was no money
for anything past food
(having survived such toxicity you must be
incredibly damaged so sit down
and shut the fuck up )
such is the discourse each word a moth
briefly incandescent
if you feed a gator long enough
you begin to resemble a possum if you haul
on the trotline you might surface
with soft shell turtle
or catfish or just shadowy weeds might see
hands reaching for you
live long enough with what flows beneath
you feel undertow on dry land
a fragrance off the Gulf
cry of osprey
blackwater unreeling shade of cypress live
oak we fed
ourselves on tomorrows
that were never ours licking
spoon and bowl wiping knives
on the linens they come for us
they come for what their privilege
promised
so many wrappers tattered
whispering bags
for snacks emptiness remains
the true line
flows
where light bends receptacle mouth
lensing chord of word’s arc
gonna cut a bitch
is the closing argument
Peach Delphine is a queer femme poet from Tampa in la florida. Late 70s high school, former cook, work in Alocasia, Beestung, Feral, UCity Review, Moist, Stone Circle Review.
Emalene Lillipore has an affinity for long lost spaces, places, and lovers. Staying true to her Iranian heritage, she has rooted most of her understandings of life and romance into a carefully curated expression of self. Emalene is currently based in North America, uses she/her pronouns, and documents her life through photography, videography, floristry, and poetry. Her project’s goal is to uncover the hidden moments that rest quietly in the pursuit of love and romance, both platonic and romantic. You can find more of her work on Instagram and Tumblr, under the handle @loveyouseeyousoon.