I feel raw today
like three strips of meat in a butternut maw.


and out flew crickets with my bathwater conscience,
each eyebrow a door
mat begging her to return,
sing a sweet fiddle solo
and swoop, leave
carpetbags at the door.

Trees take too long to grow in me.

I feel rotten
wood porch today, pried up
like termites colored pine
bark stubborn.

Another roof falls, rebuild
with tarp,
blue and wide and butter on toast

I burn so long,
three bites and I’m gone.

About the Author

Nora Greenstein Biondi is a weird and whimsical poet that has been published in “Texas Best Emerging Poets.” She is currently working on her undergraduate degrees in Plan II and Women & Gender Studies, as well as an chapbook for her undergraduate thesis. If any of her poetry piques your interest, feel free to email her at noragb@utexas.edu.