Saturn Peaches

Here is a spoken word video I created using WeVideo (also embedded above) 
Filmed (except for 2 clips that my sister filmed), read, written, and edited by me. 
Song credit: Holocene (Instrumental) by Bon Iver 


1. When the earth becomes flat enough 
for the non-believers we will go to 
its edge and sit on it and imagine 
all the ways we could fall off.

2. In peach season we fill a bowl 
and watch them ripen. Sometimes,
in the middle of the night,
when the dark bruises 
and the ceiling shudders 
I will slip down the stairs
to gnaw on their sweetness.

3. There are approximately 2,200 satellites
in earth's atmosphere. He looks at me 
with his honey brown eyes and refuses 
to admit that gravity is enough 
of a reason to stay in orbit. 

4. I am asked, on the asphalt of my driveway,
at the close of September 
if my writing is about people 
I know and things that I've done. 
What's the point of poetry if we have 
to ask for answers? 
Why don't we stand here 
and hold it on our tongues and let it melt? 

5. I spend a week in the sun, 
tilling soil and pulling weeds. 
My hands collect freckles. 
My eyes collect colors. 
I am half as unbroken 
as I was before. 

6. I make lists in my sleep: 
- Things I have never done
- Things I might never do 
- Things I am too afraid to ever admit doing

7. I can't remember a time before knowing him.
What if we never stood at the gate 
and counted the people we could've become? 
Would I still see my silhouette 
in the shattered skyline? 
Would we know which parts 
of ourselves we had taken from the other? 

8. Saturn has 8 rings.
Eight, and still I want 
to count them for myself 
for fear there might be less. 

Love to write

VT

YWP Alumni Advisor

More by Love to write

  • Unbecoming

    The streets have teeth and we hold our fingers with enough space for the others and drink cider on a corner where the ceiling above us blinks blue-blue-blue onto her tonsil-pink dress and someday I hope I never have to see it in a suitca

  • Self-Portrait at 18

    I know it’s a bad title 
    but I’m carving these words 
    out of my compacted mind. 
    I’m trying to mix the mud of my thoughts 
    into something more coherent 
    than to do lists and quiet 
  • Authorized Entrance Only

    There is no twilight in the city. 
    Only time we collect in our mouths, 
    sun peeling color off the streets,
    rats skittering down sidewalks.

    The fire escape has been painted gold.
    It shimmers at night,