I am writing about the smell of strawberries,
recalling maps dotted with multicolored pegs.

I am writing about the best methods for washing lettuce,
thinking about fragility and yielding flesh.

I am writing about garbage day
holding up what we keep and what we throw out.

I am writing about the strangeness of human bodies,
understanding nakedness and humanity.

I am writing about the cold coming through my double panes
grasping physics and security.

I am writing about my visible breath
listening for the coming spring and what we take for granted.

I am writing about my sister’s thickening waist,
weighing hopelessness and human striving.

I am writing about home
walking through a city park and considering the cold winter ground

I am writing about scapegoats
I am writing about love; I am writing about death

~~~
published in Anamesa, The Culture Issue, Fall 2003