The old women who were once girls
converge in the field like ley lines
shedding their dresses like cicada coats
they kiss and the earth cries out
as it splits and swallows
the nutrients of its soil
they open up to one another
and the trees fell their leaves and fruits
by the intensity of seismic thigh vibrations
they slot fingers into mouths
and the wheat withers in shame
for never having tasted such sweet nectar
harvest queens reversed
neither planting nor plowing
but sucking up the earth’s marrow
through straws whittled out of their own
weary bones
rejuvenated, reborn
the girls who were once old women
now ready to eat the world
like a ripe pomegranate seed
or a strawberry moon.
AVRA MARGARITI is a queer social work undergrad from Greece. She enjoys storytelling in all its forms and writes about diverse identities and experiences. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Vastarien, Asimov’s, Liminality, Arsenika, and other venues. You can find her on Twitter @avramargariti.