Jen Stewart Fueston lives in Longmont, Colorado. Her poems have recently appeared in The Christian Century, Mom Egg Review, and Harpur Palate. Her first chapbook, Visitations, was published in 2015, and her second chapbook, Latch, was just released by River Glass Books. She has taught writing at the University of Colorado, Boulder, as well as internationally in Hungary, Turkey, and Lithuania.




Jen Stewart Fueston

On the morning of your anniversary

I notice the corn stalks have grabbed another inch of the blue sky, and the shadows underneath the bannered leaves seem as if they could defy this sun, July, the planet’s desperate fevers. An unfurled canopy makes the furrowed rows an interplay of dark and damp, of blistered clay, and soft rivulets of remaindered dew. This week the greens have pushed so fast I feel as if I stopped and watched them, still, I’d see the way each little cell divides, makes more of itself, itself, itself. Because I know that what survives this heat has learned to knit more veins for thirst.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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