Every time I start to say something, she pushes down the blender
and has to yell above its gyrations, “I do not think these Chia seeds
give me the same fiber as the others.” I woke to a solid ache
this morning, the feel of hairs growing in my ear canal. I want
to tell her that I don’t understand her grief. I don’t understand fiber,
but I do understand that all night (when I could sleep) I dreamed
of the same woman chasing me through department stores
and meat markets and banks. The people were a blur and when I heard
her stir this morning I did not open my eyes but rather felt them
loose in the socket and shaking from side-to-side. I start to form
those thoughts. She says we need to “Focus on the good,” and
pushes the blender down again as she smiles at the whirling mix.
I stand sucking on my tongue, trying to keep it behind my teeth.
M. Rather, Jr’s poetry has appeared in Borderlands, The Conco River Review, The Texas Poetry Calendar, and as limited edition broadsides through Yellow Flag Press. He is a teacher at Lamar State College-Orange, Texas. You can follow him on http://liveperpetualgreatastonishment.blogspot.com or his Facebook page.