Margaux Griffith Leftovers


These are the hands that slice

pineapple, mango, pear.

These are the hands that peel

skin now coiled on the counter.

Exposed fruit, even smothered,

breathes inside the bowl.

Something lingers along the rim:

speckled strawberry seeds,

amber pulp deserted from cores.

These hands smear the edge and slide

the fruit back inside; they hesitate

before dipping down.

Nectar seeps deep into

the cracked red knuckles.

These hands will remember,

even after being washed.

Back to 51.1