Your dress looks like candied wheat.
Small tulips drip from your ears.
I can’t praise your ears enough. Freckled and soft,
containing a solar system of hearing me.
You seem like the weekend.
You seem like gleaming grain.
I adjust my face to reflect you better.
To hold your mastery of involvement.
The oats are caramel, are spreading. The table
of new, hot pancakes and blueberry syrup.
We lay low in this young room. I’m acting
casual, making it difficult for anyone
to have me. I’ve seen you
turning. The will’s in the harvest.
The strawberry air goes sour in its own excitement.
Kimberly Lambright’s debut full-length poetry collection ULTRA-CABINwas selected by David Dodd Lee as the winner of the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award and published in 2016. Kimberly is a MacDowell Colony fellow, Cleveland State University Poetry Center Open Book Award finalist, Nightboat Poetry Award semifinalist, Devil’s Lake Driftless Prize in Poetry finalist, and Lexi Rudnitsky Book Prize finalist. Her work has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review, ZYZZYVA, Sink Review, Bone Bouquet, The Boiler, Wicked Alice, Big Bridge, Little Patuxent Review, the 2019 Texas Poetry Calendar, and The Burnside Review. She holds an MFA from Eastern Washington University and an MA in experimental humanities from New York University. She currently lives in Austin, TX.