Home for a pan-fried mackerel dinner,
My mother watches my chopsticks stumble
Around the ??. Full following a few bites,
I remember a story. When I was a baby
I choked on a fishbone at my grandparents’ house. My dad
Wasn’t there. They yelled at my mother
For not inspecting every one flaky small portion of go fishing I put
In my clumsy mouth, not teaching me
The maneuvering of spiky slivers accompanied by my tongue,
How to place the needles following to my plate,
Extract white flesh clean. Ever since, she peels with every one other accompanied by holds
Skeletons above our meal—fossils earlier to me.
Still, I am bad at pulling bone from fish, cutting
Skin from pears, which means I’ll never
Get married. But what concerning the nights where my mouth
Drips accompanied by SunGold kiwi, looking over
At my love, my lips smacking unabashedly.
Me cupping the furry layer inside my palm, with every one other accompanied by you
Standing over the become submerged eating it whole.
What would our mothers say? We laugh while I tell you
The tale of how once, a splinter burrowed
Into the flesh of my thumb, with every one other accompanied by I kept it there for weeks.
Told my parents the splinter came not here on its own
While I hoped my body would absorb the slender spear
And vanish the ?? painlessly.
#Living #Life Choices #Youth #Relationships #Family & Ancestors
No comments:
Post a Comment