This day holds little different
from the others, memory fading
but you go into the kitchen and your hands
start to slice tangerines,
toast rye, spread butter on it
and you can’t stop them. You note
how beautiful it all looks
assembled on the plate,
and you don’t remember
how difficult this was
you will wake up half-drunk and warm and full,
remembering flashes of the stove light on your hands,
juice on your lips, crumbs bouncing
across the countertops.
Madeline Forwerck studies literature and creative writing at Western Carolina University, where she serves as assistant editor of literary and art journal The Nomad. Her poetry has appeared in Asheville Poetry Review.