“goodness” i text, staring at her bleeding finger/tiP/nail/shaRpCuT
“did you see a doctor?” “looks worse than it is” she types, “snipped off the dead skin & i am fine” (her father’s daughter–)
tim writes “you got more balls than some boys i know–“ “ahem–“
i get a coffee, hair a tousled fun fair & she tells me how they got the horses back that wandered off cause someone didn’t close the gate.
i slice an orange, juice trailing along a sleepy pulsing vein //against the this-and-that box leans her postcard, blue/green/ yellow bird, so tightly written that they had to bend the stamp around the edge onto the parrot’s head, i sigh, pour flour into a bowl, add milk and eggs, a dash of salt& watch it melt// fluid expanding moonshape in a butter-yellow lake
“hey, you’re baking pancakes?” hubs wraps arms around my tail “soulfood” & i’m back, a stiff breeze slapping with both fists against my chest, mudflat hiking the north sea, billion-bucket-rain whips needle pins into our legs, her foot cut by a seashell // still an hour back to shore, i try to carry her & caN’t//”i’m fine mom” & she bites her lips and walks, shivering with each step// panes fog up as we collapse into the car &back in the apartment, freshly showered, giggling and exhausted on my lap, i cook tea and kaiserschmarrn
“you’re a brave girl”
“gotta go and milk the goats” she waves //
& i pour apple sauce onto the morning’s smiling face
Sam has us write prose poems for MTB at dVerse today… doors open at 3pm EST..