Double Life of a Still Life
once, planetary in their skins, red
to the sky, but attracted to earth.
hung by wind, pears over marigolds.
their washes of fuzz hazy in the blue
a reincarnated sun and its pitted
lover, the moon
who looks, ever looks into the white
will be. So this
is what fruit becomes, longitudinal
light, its juice
running, the weighty abuse, a glad
Grass’ sweet buffer–romance,
knees. All in the time it takes to deal
a blow, a hand
of hard luck: pulp slick in the dirt,
last life of a still
life brown in the orchard, and you
taking what was,
what is, and smearing its sad cider all
over your hands.
“Double Life of a Still Life” is reprinted from Northwest Review.
Linda Malnack has published poems in many journals, including The Amherst Review, the Seattle Review, and Southern Humanities Review. She won the Willow Springs Poetry Award in 2000 and the William Stafford Award (Washington Poets Association) in 1998. Currently, she volunteers as an associate editor for the poetry e-zine, Switched-on Gutenberg.