I Offer Kitty Genovese Fake Fruit

The gilt pears shine


like the hooded eyelids


of the Madonna peering from the wall


in shame and piety. The black glass grapes


tight with silk and wire grow round


as your lover’s eyes when she’d see you come


back into the room. Would she remember


your softness, Kitty? Like these velvet apples stuck


with pins and green


sequin-cloves? The fruit bleed


something dead and dusty in the lead


crystal bowl in my mother’s parlor


in the old house where the lights


don’t work, the gold cherub-sconces


unplugged from the walls. Outside,


the moon is new, unlit. Eat.


Stay here with me. Don’t ever leave.





Jennifer Martelli’s debut poetry collection, The Uncanny Valley, was published in 2016 by Big Table Publishing Company. She is also the author of the chapbook, Apostrophe and the chapbook, After Bird, from Grey Book Press. Her work has appeared in Thrush, [Pank], Glass Poetry Journal, Cleaver, and The Heavy Feather Review. Jennifer Martelli has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes and is the recipient of the Massachusetts Cultural Council Grant in Poetry. She is a book reviewer for Up the Staircase Quarterly, as well as a co-curator for The Mom Egg VOX Folio.