Drinking Midnight in the Afternoon
Adina Kopinsky
Israel
We picked blueberries instead of brambles,
our fingers bled black juice—
we were babies suckled on midnight milk.
The afternoon smelled of cobbler,
smelled of store-bought cream
cresting into peaks—
the sun turned blue that summer,
our skirts limp, our mouths bursting,
our boyish chests burst with berries
until we mewed like babies
sated and content.
our fingers bled black juice—
we were babies suckled on midnight milk.
The afternoon smelled of cobbler,
smelled of store-bought cream
cresting into peaks—
the sun turned blue that summer,
our skirts limp, our mouths bursting,
our boyish chests burst with berries
until we mewed like babies
sated and content.
EDITOR’S CHOICE
EDITORIAL COMMENTARY
Nigerians Travel: Travel Beyond National Geographic
Richard Ali
Nigeria
IN MEMORIAM
PHOTOGRAPHY
NONFICTION
VONATRAVELS
Adina Kopinsky is a Guest Contributor to Panorama.
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