melon groves, boyo. rows of young boys, backs exposed like the inner sliver of a green bean, hacking and picking away in the steaming soil.
- for real
- magnetized by high eyes
- treat me my body; a full mountain expanse
- drawing arrows down
- i am an epitome of forlonging
- dullness in my muscles
- as a stinging shower
- heat on skin
- how can you demand control
- blossoming oranges
- thank you for the way your wet mouth rolls over them
- we are the grinning acquaintances on your ascent in hell’s mountains.
Segolene Pihut is a senior at Idyllwild Arts and she is majoring in creative writing. She is the poetry editor for Parallax and loves dogs.
Art by Noah Jones