Crescent Fruit Love
I took the little crescent moons and scooped them
Laughing, into a bowl.
The knife in my mother’s hands never stopped moving
A blur of juice and calluses and highlights
Crystal blue eyes on ceramics.
Never not cutting or writing
or smoothing or fixing
I came offstage from my first starring role and she fixed the tag sticking out of my tank top
Before ever telling me she liked the show.
She knew best what I needed.
I scoop the apples and pears and she says
“What about peanut butter? I think you need peanut butter.”
Because she wants nothing more than for me to be round
And strong
And nourished
She wants me watered and sunned.
I tell her what I was reading before, how no one ever loves you
Like your mother loves you when she’s cutting fruit.
She snapped her fingers and said
“Bullshit. Depressing.
You have no idea all the ways people are gonna love you,
Just you wait.
Just you watch.”
My mother wants me round
And strong
And nourished.
She wants me fed and watered
Shaded and sunned
Adored until I’m stunned.
She’d like to say “I told you so.
Didn’t I tell you they’d love you?”
Madi Morelli is a queer woman from Toronto who plans to publish a romance novel, a poetry collection, and a play. Her work can be found in Wild Greens Magazine, Commuter Lit, Spell Jar Press and her poetry account, @musiing.more on Instagram. She is currently singing in public.