For Spite and Rosemary - Odette Augustine
I didn’t realize
that all these little rituals
were only letting the mourning
swallow me whole.
Traditions
For Spite and Rosemary reads like a drafted confession, a maze map in progress, an attempt in isolation to map one’s own heart. Odette Augustine scratches out the why of her longing, bumps up to a hard truth, flags it, and turns the page over then does it again. We are patience and white page, a lover invested, taking our own notes as she leads the way.
All orders ship with a pink or green print of one of the poems.
All print orders of For Spite and Rosemary include a full digital copy of the text
I didn’t realize
that all these little rituals
were only letting the mourning
swallow me whole.
Traditions
For Spite and Rosemary reads like a drafted confession, a maze map in progress, an attempt in isolation to map one’s own heart. Odette Augustine scratches out the why of her longing, bumps up to a hard truth, flags it, and turns the page over then does it again. We are patience and white page, a lover invested, taking our own notes as she leads the way.
All orders ship with a pink or green print of one of the poems.
All print orders of For Spite and Rosemary include a full digital copy of the text
I didn’t realize
that all these little rituals
were only letting the mourning
swallow me whole.
Traditions
For Spite and Rosemary reads like a drafted confession, a maze map in progress, an attempt in isolation to map one’s own heart. Odette Augustine scratches out the why of her longing, bumps up to a hard truth, flags it, and turns the page over then does it again. We are patience and white page, a lover invested, taking our own notes as she leads the way.
All orders ship with a pink or green print of one of the poems.
All print orders of For Spite and Rosemary include a full digital copy of the text