Two Poems by Sara Quinn Rivara (poetry ’02) from DIODE

Husk

When did my body become a seedpod, burst open and brittle? I am still cavernous
with hunger. At first, I loved scotch broom blooming near the highway each June,

how yellow, how bright. The biologist next door chided it’s a blight,
chokes out anything native. I don’t tell him I love how the seedpod explodes,

launches seed further and further up the embankment, how early summer blazes
xanthic along the ordinary highway. Yet, God, I’ve been so sad.

Read the rest of “Husk” and more at this link: http://diodepoetry.com/quinn-rivara_sara/