Audrey Gidman
In praise of violets
I think of my grandmother.
yellow, lavender, petal-
white. her eyes
& the river. shimmer of minnow
& coyote. across
the water. shimmer
of oak & grass. purple. small
beside the house. my hands
were smaller then. I picked
small things. marveled
at their small angelic spines.
o tiny things.
you brought me
back to my own body. violets
hanging from my ears. & hair. violets
braided into boats & rising.
like lungs beside the dock.
I took
her hand & we walked. laughing.
into the water. violets
falling from our sleeves.
& wrists.
Audrey Gidman is a queer poet living in Maine. Her poems can be found or are forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Luna Luna, SWWIM, Wax Nine, Okay Donkey, Volume Poetry, The Inflectionist Review, The Shore, The West Review, and elsewhere. She serves as assistant poetry editor for Gigantic Sequins and an editor for Newfound's Emerging Poets Chapbook Series. Her chapbook, body psalms, winner of the Elyse Wolf Prize, is forthcoming from Slate Roof Press.