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Melina Costello

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Member Since: Before 2003

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Featured Book
Maryland Lost and Found...Again
by Eugene Meyer

Award-winning journalist Eugene L. Meyer directs a tour across the "Free State" that is part love letter, part oral history, part obituary. He explores what makes Marylan..  
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Books by Melina Costello
by Melina Costello
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Recent poems by Melina Costello
•  For The Missing
•  The Prediction
•  My Marshmallows Were Screaming
•  Survivors
•  The Suchness
           >> View all 14

No trembling aureoles of light
mating in night’s pocket, no Zen cricket.
Sunset is a lace curtain at the kitchen
window, lime chiffon tile. Plates of bone
from the evening meal are still life: pink
shards of salmon, California blush.
Sleep is a juniper limb, the stretch
of flesh in a tangle of chintz.

Because it is Sunday, you place
the raspberry croissant on a white
china plate. Liquid shimmers in an oval
spoon. A young child burrows; small
hands discover me, pull my breasts
to her cheek. Through half-closed lids I watch
your mouth explore the Chinese plum,
the rich, deep stain of Autumn.

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Reviewed by Jeff Mason
AWESOME! I can simply echo Andrew's comments below - a most magnificent capturing of imagery. -- Jeff
Reviewed by Andrew Ceroni
October 15, 2003

Autumn again it is. October once more. And before it deepened into the moist browns of November, I remembered I wanted to tell you how much I like this. The senses can be hard to capture so that they tear into reading. You encircle them with your pride of lions, the lioness leading, and feverishly attack until the flesh of it is bared open for our enjoyment. Thanks for the ravaging.

Andy Ceroni
Reviewed by Tova Gabrielle
Very rich. The child at the breast, deep stain of Autumn. Half-closed lids. Sleepy, satisfying.
And NIght's Pocket! YUM.
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