That night after the blueberry pie meeting, I wrote a poem. Also, Anna called and said she wants to talk.
"5:15 PM- Go Allow Love A Taste In A New Summer"
In the green stretch of backyard
like kittens on the quilt you sewed me
from your middle-school T-shirts
I stick a lemon-square through your lips
and we howl until it reaches the clouds
Inside the two-story house the kitchen mom
with her glovemits backs away from the heat
sucking her seared-raw wrist
In the oven the chocolate-chips dance
with the sugar and the butter,
the cult-ritual for the maternal love-pact
They are aware, unlike the jackal-lover-mom,
of the creatures that play outside
Inside the body the blood simmers because
of the way our sharp teeth bite
Of the way our sharp teeth will bite
into each other during the night
Worship-mom shouts out the screen-summer-door
“Honey, the cookies are done. Let’s prey and eat!”
