The Hull of the Muscadine Grape

The Hull of the Muscadine Grape | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Illustration by Gieneyra Lai-Alvarez, artworxLA student artist.

In the middle
of something. I exist:
barely and bulb-like.

An idea that is nothing
but mass. Before it’s been
given any thought,
but after its
conception – that
is me. Then,
the hull of the Muscadine
grape that is almost,
if not always,
It enters the mouth.
A subtle pop.
Bursting skin rolls back,
both exposed and raw.

That is me.
A seed or two,
by my side, reminiscent
of the wet mouth we
made passage through.
I haven’t decided on anything
but slowing down,
I tell them.
They don’t speak,
but crack and
at the edges, as I watch
what I think is death,
gaining momentum. I am
being wrong here, repeat.

Alayna Powell is a poetry student at the University of Pittsburgh. Her work is featured in Rogue Agent Journal.
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