In Bruised Fruit, pride hangs from a tree like a plum, is plucked, and left to rot on the ground. A cow jumps over the moon and lands on the highway. A heart is made of glass. Blushing is “a wound / in my cheek.” A breath is an ocean wave.

Love is turned and turned, like a prism, as the poet peers into romantic love, family love, betrayal, friendship, loss, grief, ecstasy. The tone is sometimes rageful, sometimes tender—"My love for you is / pollen in the sunlight: / soft and bright”—and sometimes ironic—"The time has come / for me to say / I never cared much / for him anyway.”

Written over the course of half a year, Bruised Fruit tracks the mind as it wanders through university classes, pondering the past, ruminating on the present, curious about the future. Eloquent line drawings throughout either directly reflect the poem or diverge from it, ushering in new and unexpected meanings. Brie Susanne’s poems range over her personal landscape, exploring every nook and cranny, finding, ultimately, redemption. This young author’s piercing gaze reveals a world both entirely personal and universal:

Oh, miss Maya,

you have stolen so many

hours but wasted

none of my time.

With you I find

shiny dimes

scattered everywhere—

all of them

wear different faces

and have been to places

I will never know.

Never go.

The room is dark

and I park

myself on the sofa

from which I will not

move.

I feel the grooves

of continuity—

there is no play

if I choose to stay.

Bruised Fruit will appeal to an adult audience.

Brie Susanne has been a lifelong reader and is currently in her fourth year at The King's University, Edmonton, Alberta, majoring in English Literature, and minoring in History. She has written for the English newsletter several times and occasionally posts her poetry online. Bruised Fruit is her first published work.

She lives in Leduc, Alberta, Canada, with her mom and two cats—a tabby named Ezra, and a tortoiseshell named Cleo.