Claire Jussel is an emerging poet, writer, and artist from Boise, Idaho. She graduated from St. Olaf College in 2019 with degrees in English and history. Her work has appeared in The Quarry. She currently resides Minnesota and is a bookseller at Wild Rumpus Books in Minneapolis.
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To You, Who is Still Learning to Fall in Love with Her Body
and is leaning over the kitchen sink
eating a nectarine—
you didn’t always like fruit,
but here you are, back arching
involuntarily at the first bite
of that bright, blemished
thing. Do you remember
what your mother told you about detecting ripeness?
That the best things are both firm
and soft,
(and lightly fragrant)
Say the same for yourself,
to the ever-present softness
of your belly,
when summer hills draw you lean
and when the pale flesh
rises back, look
how the strong-domed stomach
holds you up.
Have you seen those misshapen
fruits kept from market?
Lemons with curling ram horns, triple wide
strawberries, topographically dynamic apples—
all good fruit,
though they are coiled
and curved
and lumpy.
Love is not far off, my pigeon-breasted,
rib-flared,
spine-swayed dear.
Who, a year ago, would have imagined
you, with nectarine syrup dripping
from coated finger tips,
fleshy juice caught
in the corners of your lips,
nibbling down to that slippery pit.