With Each Day More
Meridith Gresher

With each day I grow more
translucent, a milk glass pitcher
spilling earth worms, molasses, and tarragon leaves.
Dumping blood oranges and beet pulp
cider gold finches and peacock plumes.
All that I have seen, touched, all

is frost shooting from the spout. Patient
for victory, death pours my contents down the lane.
Neighbors watch as you shuck my dancing shoes,
aubergine shawl inky with words
scrawled: this chimney,
my throat, ice.

Next door a neighbor gasses up his
grill and roasts marshmallows
to melt me.

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