A bitter taste
an after taste
He wants me to swallow
He holds my mouth open with Popsicle sticks
Over and over he examines it
A Place for Truth Tellers
Genetics dictate we are a 50/50 split of our parents, and researchers have identified various cycles that continue from one generation to the next. But how similar are we really to our parents and how do we become our own person–and what loop will we become in the chain of familial tradition?
Prosperity
By Margery Hannah
Sand falls to the platter
of dry branches resting
in a baby cardboard box
I bless you and lower my gaze
wipe greased palms
on linen white
Drop it in the box
Chant, “Prosperity, prosperity, prosperity”
Match the platter with burning light
Now, spit upon the flames
You are now a footstool
for dreams abundant