a dream on a summer's morning

Julia Retkova

bursting olives, sun, mountains,
halloumi cheese with ripened tomatoes.
late summer grapes staining hands red.
a train passing in hazy afternoons. there–
a small station, a small town,
platform empty and heavy
in the august heat, in the sizzling burn
of heated stone.
bruised plums and
sticky palms.
the moon will keep us with her eyes.
to awake with dew gathered
in the hollows of collarbones,
untangling lashes
heady with sleep. a sun-speckled dream,
filled with the taste of pomegranates:
underneath, something sour, blood-biting.
all good wine is a thing reborn

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Julia is a King’s College London graduate student with two degrees in Literature and Digital Studies. When not working on an app that connects foreigners with their family overseas, she's running a small literary journal called Nymphs. She was born in Ukraine, but grew up in the south of Spain. She loves reading books in the sun and writing when everyone’s asleep.

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