T H E B O Y I N T H E M O O N D R E A M S O F L E M O N S
The girl in the window, staring up
at all that yellow, thinks she can taste
* * *
I’ve stopped sleeping
in color. I eat tart
champagne beads, teardrops
even, so as not to be afraid
of strangers or the sun.
* * *
The boy in the moon is a halo.
A paper cut out floating
in white. He’s sour milk
beginning to ivory.
* * *
Pin a paper name
to sallow peel, myths say
its bearer will get sick
or die. They’ll blame the citrus
and forget how acid cured
a fever, sores, and sleeplessness.
I’ll carve his name right down
into the rind, into the fruit’s
gold marrow and wait
for rooted bloom the way
sky waits for the moon.
* * *
The boy is neither husk nor flower.
Though if he were, he’d be
a lemon tree, branching canary bright
across the onyx. And the girl would wait,
crystalline pools of white
for eyes, as open as
H E R M E N E U T I C C H A O S J O U R N A L
The Jane Lumley Prize '15 : Honorable Mention
J U L I A K O L C H I N S K Y D A S B A C H
Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach emigrated as a Jewish refugee from Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine in 1993. She holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of Oregon and is a Ph.D. student in the University of Pennsylvania’s Comparative Literature program. Her research focuses on the lyric rendering of trauma in contemporary American poetry composed by emigrants of the former Soviet Union. Her poetry has appeared in Missouri Review, Gulf Coast, TriQuarterly, and Southern Humanities Review. Julia is the author of The Bear Who Atethe Stars, winner of Split Lip Magazine's 2014 Uppercut Chapbook Award. She is also the Editor-in-Chief of Construction Magazine, eager to read your work. Learn more by visiting her website.
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