Winter 1985 • Vol. VII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1985 |

Inventory

The sour of plums bites my stomach. Nothing I eat seems palatable. All acid this Summer of bitter greens and half-moons trembling. Some claim to have seen the demon I took in, to play shadow theater with me. Nonsense, I say. Small disasters aside, it's been a bad Summer: my life, hungry and cold, the whole season long.

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.