← v17n2, Fall 2018
Poetry · Volume 17, Number 2

The Seal

Because you’ve gone to seek your fame

on another stage, and because

my legs grow strong on rage and running

and summer peaches ripen

insistently, reminding me

of your mouth on mine

when I was ten, because the fruit in jars

is flecked like the skin of your hands,

because I twist the lids to seal them

and leave them cooling

on the counter, because

I run away each time but then