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Flaccid, professionally palpated twice a year, searching for tumors, It is stroked rhythmically, as needed, To sweep pooled lymph fluid toward a new delta. The nipple dares not responds to pleasure. With indrawn breath, it lays low, shrinking from the … Continue reading
Photo: Richard Masoner
Who is this “I?” Surely not the meat body, Continue reading
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Our library has two floors, with sixteen stairs between them. “Nothing That is Not For My Good Can Enter Here” I chant Sixteen times, pushing my golden force field past my finger tips, As I rise, nauseous, to serve the … Continue reading
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Hunkered in the frozen marsh, trapped in winter, in congealing mud, I waited. I assumed the subsequent meal, that there would be a reward for my persistence. My reward.
Photo: Molly
The day beets were served at nursery school I finally earned my first gold star.
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My nickname is McGyver and I’m not much of a cook, so this isn’t going to be a cooking story.
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A year or so before my hippie parents broke up, my mom and her boyfriend and myself drove across country in April.
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Who is this “me” that expresses thanks? So much spirit in a carrier oil. This moment — This pumpkin pie curd Smashed against strong teeth — This coffee, dark, at the end of a meal — My heart unbuttoned, … Continue reading
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