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Fur Malorum by Sia Moon

 ...


when i was younger,

(arguably more so than i am now)

i hopped, bank 


to slippery bank

to wade up to my knees in river water

and steal crab apples from 


the tree of my grandmother’s neighbor. and

before that, i plucked ripe satsumas from the 

green-stemmed tower in my aunt’s yard.


everyday, i grow younger than i am now 

and

i often indulge in picking fruit: gooseberries pierce 


and split the very tip of my tongue on the daily. this 

is why i say i grow younger; 

though my red lips are 


puckered by sour fruit, my fingers do not cease 

to pluck. i consider myself lucky, for not many grasp 

the footing to plant themselves on wet riverbanks 


or the gall to compromise

the safety of their tender tongues in 

search for sweet berries.


...


Sia Moon is a young New Orleans-based writer and poet of Black and Buryat descent. Her work has been featured in the Riverbend Review, the Eunoia Review, and Chewers. Her poetry has won a Scholastic Gold Key. 

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