After Persephone

The peeling of potatoesbrings a dreamabout my mother, in the kitchen,its dimensions not mistakenfor any other childhood rooms, cousinsĀ“ houses, rooms from other lives. Faded cupboards, greaseon the counters.Black and white featherbelly of the cat. My mother throws two red tacks onto the floor, one straightone bent.Ā  One, perhaps, for the cat which used toContinue reading “After Persephone”