The Fieldstone Review

Cracking Open Snow Peas on the Promenade by the Drava

“Peas are not amused.
They have spent all their lives
keeping their knees together.”

"Peas," by Lorna Crozier

Dear Lorna,

I think I have been raised a pea.
I think peas are meant to be punctured,

see, they don’t thrive so well
in Osijek air.

You’re here to adventure,
explore, he says.

The promenada sprawls naked,
waiting to be touched,
to see boys kissing – all these
bare forearms.

You won’t sleep tonight, he whispers;
the words cling to my collarbone –
and I say yes, because
we sleep all too much,
we readily coma inside
the tight, green lips
of peas.

I did not come to the promenade
to sleep.

So I challenge the life of peas,
burst them open
underneath sweaty sheets
licked by marijuana and Ožujsko.*

Cast away the shells
into the Drava river
like an old skin
that I convince him, them,
myself –
I had never worn before.

* A traditional Croatian beer.