Dripping in Daybreak
Compound Butter
"Dripping in Daybreak," a recently released collaborative project, offers writing by Damara Miller coupled with images styled and shot by Salene Jang. The result is a playful and intimate piece of literature and art. We hope you enjoy it, published here for the first time in its entirety online.
With the morning comes a far song,
The whispers of sound.
I hold it until it howls until it
Roars until it wavers until it’s
Obscured once more.
I pay no mind.
I’m dripping in the
Daybreak, watering a seedling and
Tasting remnants
Of a popsicle.
I take to the dirt.
The world is but fistfuls of earth,
The scrape of a spade.
Crumbles that fall until they’re
Molded until they’re flattened until they’re
Obscured once more.
I think of hands.
My mother’s, as she
Gathered my hair on top of my head,
Turned in her palms.
A radish comes free.
I roll it in mine.
What a gift, to borrow nature.
What a gift, to care for turnips and tomatoes
While drunk on sunrise coffee and full of midday cake.
What a gift, to have a memory,
And a mother,
And a bright garden,
In this bright world,
That sings its own song,
Like a child to her daisies,
Or a woman to her carrots.
Damara Miller is a writer based in Los Angeles. You can follow her on instagram and contact her at damarapratt@gmail.com.
