A woman married to war
only knows stillbirth.
This week, a gem published in the Shade Journal by Logan February. ‘Night Falls Like Ripe Fruit’ is an illustration of spaces torn asunder by conflict. With crisp imagery, February dissects a moment in time, lays bare the thread drawing past, present and future closer towards one another.
She flings tight lungs soaked in scream,
but at who? What makes a knife go silent?
Is the wind slicing through her or
is she slicing through the wind?
The poem centers around its title image, a simile that is recalled and eventually cycled back to, with altered meaning. February draws remarkable language in this poem, the act of translating between image, meaning, and words leaving something undefinable to be caught in the act of unraveling and deciphering.
A prayer ascending in reverse, traveling
from succulence to desiccation.
the Shade Journal