Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Yusef Komunyakaa

Avarice

Avarice

Avarice

At six, she chewed off
The seven porcelain buttons
From her sister’s christening gown
& hid them in a Prince Albert can

On a sill crisscrossing the house
In the spidery crawlspace.
She’d weigh a peach in her hands
Till it rotted. At sixteen,

She gazed at her little brother’s
Junebugs pinned to a sheet of cork,
Assaying their glimmer, till she
Buried them beneath a fig tree’s wide,

Green skirt. Now, twenty-six,
Locked in the beauty of her bones,
She counts eight engagement rings
At least twelve times each day.
Close

Avarice

At six, she chewed off
The seven porcelain buttons
From her sister’s christening gown
& hid them in a Prince Albert can

On a sill crisscrossing the house
In the spidery crawlspace.
She’d weigh a peach in her hands
Till it rotted. At sixteen,

She gazed at her little brother’s
Junebugs pinned to a sheet of cork,
Assaying their glimmer, till she
Buried them beneath a fig tree’s wide,

Green skirt. Now, twenty-six,
Locked in the beauty of her bones,
She counts eight engagement rings
At least twelve times each day.

Avarice

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Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
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