thimbles & peppercorn
Elizabeth Chereskin
the dead fish
are limp crescents
of copper
citrus slices
with one eye to the sky
near-dusk light
sneaks hazily through
glasses of half-drank sangria
vermillion jelly jars
uneaten bright green grapes
sun slides past
shiny once-lost thimbles
whole autumn peppercorn
apple cores still tooth-marked
then the shower
& now the fruit
beads off rain sweat
those thimbles are tiny
buckets of water
wine’s surface is a speckle
of short-lived concentric circles
the goldfish
are now somehow
alive again
swimming alphabet shapes
carving our names
into the water
the dead fish
are limp crescents
of copper
citrus slices
with one eye to the sky
near-dusk light
sneaks hazily through
glasses of half-drank sangria
vermillion jelly jars
uneaten bright green grapes
sun slides past
shiny once-lost thimbles
whole autumn peppercorn
apple cores still tooth-marked
then the shower
& now the fruit
beads off rain sweat
those thimbles are tiny
buckets of water
wine’s surface is a speckle
of short-lived concentric circles
the goldfish
are now somehow
alive again
swimming alphabet shapes
carving our names
into the water