We Read Gertrude Stein in July
Press my tender buttons.
Crumble my dirt in your palms.
Taste my hollow and echoing.
Come morning and the trees will have
bent at the waist to bow to us.
The Minnesota sky will have grown
satiny and soft as it watches us melt
into each other in these corn fields.
Our beers will have spilled into the earth
and the clouds will have averted their eyes,
shy at seeing too much of me.
The windowsills of our street
will all hold peonies as if to say
we see you in your holiness,
you are so young, we are praying
that you stay that way.
By Ramna Safeer
Ramna Safeer is a pre-Law English Lit student. She is a writer, blogger, researcher, activist and perpetual coffee-spiller. Her poetry has been previously published in The ASUS Undergraduate Review, Atwood Mag and Words-on-Pages Magazine. Her essays and articles have appeared in The Huffington Post, New Canadian Media and The Queen’s Journal, where she works as the Editorials Editor. She is the founder and blogger at CherishChai.com, an online space that maps her journey to recapture her Pakistani, Muslim heritage.