You watched the hydrogen peroxide
jitter on your cuts while the candle
sputtered and smoked. You asked the
mason jars how they felt as they sank
in boiling water. You cried as you hit
the soup of rabbit guts with your Chevy.
You closed your eyes as you stubbed your
toe on the molten asphalt. You licked
your teeth as you put your cigarette out in
your palm; the clatter of grandchildren
running outside. You laughed when the
mailman asked what kind of perfume
you wore. You boiled eggs like a savage
and drank coffee until your teeth yellowed.
You never forgot to count the seconds
between the thunder and the lightning.
Katie E. Kautenburg is a graduating senior from Carroll University and currently resides in Wisconsin.
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