Untitled #6, Rebecca Jones
Mother, my sun-dried tomato,
it’s Sunday, let us wake up
and plant crocus bulbs in the frosted soil.
You have stopped growing altogether.
Every word is a chip on the rim of your glass.
Why do we celebrate our suffering each year,
orbit it, re-inhabit it?
Why do we leave untouched
the heart of the artichoke on the plate?
Somebody has to be there to stop you.
Somebody has to tell you you’re lovely,
your garden, your winter, your hips.
About the Author
Maia ten Brink, Princeton University
Maia ten Brink hails from Woods Hole, Massachusetts. She studies neuroscience and creative writing at Princeton.
About the Artist
Rebecca Jones, Susquehanna University
Rebecca Jones is a 2011 journalism graduate of Susquehanna. As a photographer, she has published a book, the irrationality of fact, and exhibited works alongside Andy Warhol’s; her work has also appeared in Essay, RiverCraft and Serenity literary magazines. She is a reporter for Thomson-Reuters International, The Patriot-News and the EE Times. View the entirety of her photo essay here.