A Cut-up Mango
Cutting into the deep of this fruit, sweet and sour, just like nostalgia,
you reach to an ending point: meeting at the middle, a pit.
Flat. Long. And spread out. Thin. People usually slice it.
To the Man I Kissed Sitting on a Sunkist Orange Crate Smoking a Doobie
is where I buy my groceries—
where an onslaught of folks with a library of high ideals
carry eco-friendly jute bags of peppermint chard, Meyer lemons,
free-range organic eggs produced by happy, healthy hens—
Morning in East Wallingford
Morning in East Wallingford,
not to be confused with
Wallingford proper,
down the road
a few miles
here in Vermont:
a bifurcated village.
If the Point Were to Tell it Straight, Not Slant
In our first session, I told my tutor how much I used to love to take my siblings to the park when they were little. He said Oh, so you had to help raise them?
Wolf
I have no other
ransom money, nothing to break
or barter but my life.
—Diane di Prima