Lindsay Costello is a poet and art writer living in Portland, OR. Her chapbook So What if I’m Unfolding? was published in 2017, followed by Bloomswelling in 2018. Also in 2018, her digital poetry project Poetics of Space Angel was featured in the online exhibition estranged.love. Her work has appeared in Meadow’s Summer Field Guide, Pallas Magazine and SUSAN / THE JOURNAL. She studied textiles at the Oregon College of Art and Craft, where her thesis project analyzed the conceptual intersections between poetry and weaving.
Peaches
Between them a type of drowning.
A distance measured in carpeting
Or
The furry halo around a peach, or
That grey film of moving, seeing from a light place
To a dark place. Squinting.
That distance.
I waited in the ash-glow staring
At a lizard chasing itself, or nothing,
As screams rattled the windows.
My father once convinced me that
Money lived in the ceiling.
Quarters mostly, nested in plaster,
Warm children.
I stood on a chair and reached for them.
Dripping
I already wonder about summer
And its beasts in bloom
All becoming bats
Hanging sweat and limb
Chewing lettuce or watermelon
I wonder about it
When one day an interruptive stillness
And a river somewhere halts
And limbs go bare and dry out
Like apricot leather