Hunger Under the orange-striped canopy a densely arrayed table of fruit and wine corked bottles mating the fragrance of grape and oak backs bearing hand-sewn cloth and the rainbows of spring toward the banister a straw-hatted man leans back trimmed beard, thick forearms and biceps of a body whose hands earn their keep deep in the soil ushering gourds and roots into the light the smell of earth and rain in his pores weeds wade in the water while on the wooden deck fourteen lives mingle in the May of 1880 and there’s always a peacock in a crowd, a crow self-promoting its prowess cawing its intentions to sow and spread itself over the fecund fields in this parade of plumage in this concoction of muscle, meat, finery, fertility, the perfumes of pollination ache and restraint in the pleats of trousers, the press of dresses this pitch, this moment ripe and redolent, this pulse, this racing in place for close to a century now, dust Mark Elber Mark Elber has been published in various journals among which are four issues of Mudfish, Newtown Literary, The Jerusalem Review, Home Planet News, and The Sierra Nevada College Review. He has an MFA from the low residency program for writers at Warren Wilson College and is the author of The Everything Kabbalah Book and The Sacred Now. Mark was born in NYC and now lives in Fall River, MA.
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September 2024
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