Spring at the College

by Jenna Massey



I follow a step behind my mother

in the produce section. We are heading 

for the apples, honeycrisp specifically, 
and she insists on examining each one 

for me before I bag it and drive it home

to eat alone, fridge-cold and oozing nectar. 

My mother appraises the fruit in silence 
before handing it to me, and I think: my god, 

this is love - how thorough, how exhaustive. 

In the street a week before, I walked in step 
with other girls, feeling overwhelmed by the 

abundance of April greenery around us, by the
bushes sagged with blossoms, by our voices 

high and clear. Suddenly I felt a gateway swing 
through me; the air wobbled, the sky hung 

obese with rain. I felt my throat close and reopen. 
I wanted to hold everyone I knew and search 

their skin for bruises. I wanted the sky to split 
and send us shrieking down the road. 

My god, that was love. How inexplicable, 
how efflorescent. 



back to University & College Poetry Prizes