Grapefruit
fingernail puncture to the skin burrowing beneath a reluctant peel, your dry detachment fibrous white tendrils cling to crevasses to my finger tips spokes of pink teardrops are tart sweetness on my tongue though the bitter aftertaste is what lingers
Jiao zi
Sunday mornings find my mother’s measured knife strokes, dut dut dut chopping brilliant Scope green qing cai into a pulpy mass. At seven I’m an eager “helper,” smushing the delicate wonton wrappers between my fingers, streaking flour across the counter. She drops a few of my lumps in the pot for kicks. Later, at the [...]
