Poetry - Issue 23 | November 2015

Koinonia Farms

by Alina

Koinonia Farms, Georgia

We drove in dim
with twilight and
left in joy-filled
confusion, our
hair shorn, the
puddles of us

What began as a commune
for racial reconciliation
persists in permaculture
from which we learn
to love the soil’s
varied colors, the
hues from which
we are fashioned.

Learn to be silent
so wind can speak.
To savor the fruit
from hand-thread
vines and the stomach
croons sonatas.
To fathom the love
in a buckeye flotilla.

Clarence Jordan,
cotton’s minor prophet,
whispered verses
reconciling us to pecan
tree leaves. Saying
no heart bears beauty
without vice. We left
behind only our lice.

About the author

Alina Stefanescu was born in Romania and raised in Tuscaloosa, Alabama where she resides with her partner and three small native species. Her homeland is a speculative fiction. Alina has visited Mumbai/Bombay, everywhere the Euro-rail touches, and as many American truck stops as needed to build her shot glass collection. She will go anywhere if offered a ticket. Read her forthcoming work in PoemMemoirStory, Reservoir, Rivet, Sandy River Review, and The Zodiac Review, among others. Her poetry chapbook, Objects in Vases, will be published by Anchor & Plume in March 2016. More online on her website.

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