Violence Of The Sun In My Kitchen

I opened my refrigerator door.
My refrigerator yelled, “You fat pig!”
I closed the door and shuddered at the dig.
But I was hungry so I braced for more

and went in again. “I will not ignore
that roll of fat above your pants! Zaftig?
Fat! Calculus, geometry and trig
couldn’t count your calories, sugar whore!”

I grabbed some veggies and a chicken breast
and shut the door. There is a roll of fat
bulging above the waist of my new pants.

Lean meats. Fresh veggies. Healthy fat. This quest
is my odyssey—return to abs flat,
to silence from refrigerator rants.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



Things Not Jazz: Ice Cream Sadness


Keys With Their Baffling Variety Of Curves
(Zaftig)



Porcelain Scientists With Metal Helpers


Cookies And High Heels In A Clean Kitchen



Children Of Legend


Tiny Purple Fishes Swim Laughing
(Violence of the Sun)