Blinders

Brittany Cagle

My Mother's Plants


She seemed happiest when she went
into her garden, picked me the ripest
tomato and watched seeds

spill down my hands.
It was then when I ate
for something more than hunger.

There were other times when she unraveled
my skin with her hands, pulled
my head from my shoulders

and pinned me against the door
with her thumb, the same thumb
I wear on my own hand.

And this was all
I knew�the last firing of her hand,
my skin, now the tomato, roots surfacing.






Brittany Cagle

BRITTANY CAGLE works as a creative writing instructor and writing consultant at the University of South Florida. Her poetry and prose has most recently appeared in The Poet�s Billow, Spry Literary Journal Issues 2 and 4, Sweet: A Literary Confection, Welter, Mad Swirl, and is forthcoming in The Stray Branch and Pelorus Press. Her poetry was recently nominated for the 2014 and 2015 AWP Intro Journals Award. Her poetry chapbook, My Family Sleeps in New Beds, was selected by The Poet�s Billow for the Pangaea prize, submitted to Best New Poets anthology, and nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2014.





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