Pumpkin Revisited, By Sharmon Gazaway

Editor’s note: There is real magic, and cunning, in this poem. The magic and cunning of the fairy godmother—who is absent but hovering—but also the magic of the narrator’s thoughts. This poem reads like a spell or incantation. I knew I had to buy it as soon as I read it. (Kate)

Two little see-through heels tap

a nervous ditty on my echoing

innards—torn from my vine-friends

and homely earth, scraped

clean of gold filigree strings

and seeds, my peachy flesh

slickly cool and hollowed-out.

I just want to know

where are my seeds?

I’ve weathered frost

and hard-bitten midnight

under just such a moon.

It reflects my plump

orange glory, old friends

since I first cracked

the seedcase and burial chamber—

quite the transformation.

And now, this! Gaudy glitter

and in motion. Sure, this is great

but a dry and flighty business:

waiting by a wide staircase of stone

for a slight girl in fairy splendor

the secret in the clock

the mad dash, the magic hour

a thrown shoe

the drama, the tears

(heavens, even a horse can throw a shoe).

I just want to know

where are my seeds?

I’ll show them some real magic.

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Bio: Sharmon writes from the deep south. Her poetry is featured in Rhonda Parrish's anthology, "Dark Waters," Sept. 14, 2021. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Forge, Daily Science Fiction, New Myths, Love Letters to Poe, microverses.net: Octavos, The Society of Classical Poets Journal IX, Backchannels, and elsewhere.  

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Image from Pixabay.

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