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Bittersweet Fiddlehead by C.T. McClintock

Bittersweet Fiddlehead

The running streams

of umbilical legacies look like

delicate, graceful, yellow air

an unbroken pizzelle dipped in Earl Grey

unburnt bundles of white sage

corn silk shucked into a brown paper bag

corn itself, crisp ear of Silver Queen

homegrown pineapple in a sunlit bathtub

a perfect split in a cabochon ametrine

pollen dust on a Ford Anglia hood

citrus juice in summer hair

velvet booties, mossy green

an avocado split six hours too early

September morning breakfast in bed

Snow packed shell on a North Atlantic beach

stone fruit, burrata, balsamic, soda bread

Arizona flagstone slick with rain

Brand new lima bean slick with slime

small miracles on top of small miracles

passed onward through the membrane.


C.T. McClintock writes, daydreams, and lives her life in Brooklyn, New York. She is a Doctoral Fellow at St. John’s University in Queens, New York where she teaches undergraduate writing and works as the Assistant Editor of the St. John’s academic journal, The Humanities Review.


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