1. Close your eyes and count to spring. Then, ready or not: grind us into flower, shove us in the oven to bloom like bread. Brother, I have seen her impatient at the window rosemary in her hand like a votive branch. 2. It is not my house anymore with its pinebox smell. She has redecorated my children with bruises… Read more →
after Anne Sexton’s “Housewife” Some women marry foxes. She wears her furs around the house, red as a fever, blood under the fresh manicure. See how she prepares the meal: rabbit for lunch, rabbit for dinner. Men come home hungry as hounds after the chase. A woman is the hunter. That’s the main thing.