Poem by Amanda Tumminaro


 

Summer in the Midwest

I’ll be sitting out in the park
as blunt as Bette Davis, letting the juices
of the fruit in the heat flow down my chin.
It seems then that the imperceptible
wind toys with my hair, strand by strand.

Here there is no Midas touch,
there is dirt and cornfields, rising past
my head like a farmer’s heaven.

The smoldering, golden sun turns all to
bronze. Ice water pours from faucets
like miniature streams and lemonade
wets the farmhand’s lips. The watermelon
stands make their appearance and peer out into the road.

 
Allison, Field

 

Amanda Tumminaro lives in Illinois with her family. She enjoys libraries and caffeinated drinks. Her poetry has appeared in Storm Cellar, Sassafras Literary Magazine and Hot Metal Bridge.

Allison Goldin is an artist living in California. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles.

 

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