The Girl With Silver Hands

by Nina Pelaez

In the yard you found her sweeping
apples from beside the tree
their skins leathery and soft. Too sweet.
On the ground, a circle drawn with chalk —
you stand beside it. The shimmering moon
on the water in the garden. Take the water away.
Silver moon and silver hands. Beautiful
fruit you've counted on the branch.
Have you forgotten her? Fallen beneath the tree.
By the mill you found her washing
her wrists in the water. The lines
deepening and dry. Too clean to take her.
On the tree, pears, already counted. Hands
behind her back. Reaching, tongue and mouth.
Dry fruit, the skin like sand. Unclean.
Silver hands and silver eyes. A handkerchief
over your face. It falls, someone puts it back.
Have you remembered her? The tongue, the taste of fruit.

Nina Pelaez was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. For the past four years she has been living and studying in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania, but is looking forward to moving back to New York this summer. When she isn't writing poetry or studying art history, Nina especially loves to spend her time cooking, gardening, and making books. She has what she would like to think is a healthy addiction to thrift stores and has, without even realizing it, become an ardent collector of antique apothecary bottles. When asked to name what kind of mask would choose her, she replied, "A mask of bees."

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