A child knows the world It should have lasted. Fragrance filled her open pores. Trap doors for milk and mail It was not a yard. But seasons change. Suzanne O’Connell is a poet living in Los Angeles. Her recently published work can be found in Poet Lore, The Menacing Hedge, Steam Ticket, Rubbertop Review, Paperplates Magazine, Glint Literary Journal, American Chordata, Alembic, and Forge. O’Connell was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize. Her first poetry collection, “A Prayer For Torn Stockings,” was published by Garden Oak Press in 2016.
Eating Beauty
by putting it part by part
into her mouth.
—Jack Gilbert
Her soul was nailed to her at birth.
A fierce explorer of the summer crusades,
she wobbled about the yard, a drunken bee,
intoxicated with learning.
A wet Narcissis was plucked,
smelled dry,
carried home on a handkerchief.
held secret notes,
a bent nail, a coin.
Once, she found an earring,
set with green and red stones.
It was not a lawn.
It was not a garden.
It was something beyond.
It was a banquet of beauty.
The moon scurried away.
Shadows spread over paradise,
and it rained
on a girl’s
hummingbird heart.About the Author
