The summer language classes are free, but Rabka insists on leaving payments on my desk. Slippery eggplants—aubergines--waddled in a dish towel like purple babies. Ripe tomatoes cradled in a woven bag. Cookies, sweet and wheaty, pregnant with raisins. Moist, glistening farmer’s cheese, twisted like a rune. I try to return the towels and the tidy bags, carefully stitched from recycled nightgowns or a baby’s shirt, a towel from Canadian Tire. “This is a useful bag,” I say. “You should take …
Tag: Seeds
“Like False Hazel…” * Four Poems * DS Maolalai
Hazelnuts it’s beautiful; this hot hazelnut coffee, made with sweet syrup and no hazelnuts at all, tasting nothing like hazelnuts and much like the future which bangs outside, brassy, band and big. it’s sunlight and slamming the pavements, slamming the window and slamming your hands on the coffeeshop table like the clip of a closing pianolid, and you’ve gotten two messages since sitting down, and both of them have been good; delicious like false hazel. it’s a wonderful thought, isn’t …