Purple
is round in the mouth
like a plum dusky with mist
on the skin tart and crisp thin
as an elderly bruise under an IV
marking fluid injection
into yellow flesh that pulps
in the teeth. A harp plucked
and dragged with spirits says
there’s golden light and juice
to miss once you’re gone.
The blush-blue crepe
of a grandmother’s chest
in your memory. Like film of her
a ghost of her voice returning.
And wasn’t it always this way?
Where you think you have a grasp
on where your body resides this time.
Where your blood and flesh
makes other blood that could kill you
without a shot in the buttock.
And you are only a summer visitor
in the life you’ve been given.
*
Jessica Purdy holds an MFA from Emerson College. She is the author of STARLAND and Sleep in a Strange House (Nixes Mate, 2017 and 2018), and The Adorable Knife (Grey Book Press, 2023), and You’re Never the Same (Seven Kitchens Press). Her poems and micro-fiction have been nominated for Best Spiritual Literature, Best New Poets, Best of the Net, and Best Micro-Fiction. Her poetry, flash fiction, and reviews appear in About Place, On the Seawall, Radar, The Night Heron Barks, SoFloPoJo, Litro, Heavy Feather Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Exeter, NH.

Really beautiful poem, rounding several bends of imagination!!