I crunch them whole and naked now,
remember Sunday afternoons
the screech of forks and clash of plates,
implosive silence in between
the juicy roast and flaky pie
or splintered words like shredded shells
that burst past bowl, past tablecloth
when we worked nutcrackers at last.
We swallowed, felt our guts expanding
toward a nap as we forgot
each other, watched our hands, all give
and take compressed to split and snap.
Elizabeth Rivers has published work in the Schuylkill Valley Journal and The Christian Century.
She has won the Milton Dorfman Poetry Prize and the Portland Pen Poetry Contest and has also received countless
rejections. She is grateful for the community of poets she is getting to know in the Philadephia region and
for her present opportunities to learn more about reading and writing poetry.
ELIZABETH RIVERS IN THIS EDITION:
POETRY: Shelled Almonds