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.

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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.