Cold food takes more energy to digest than warm food.
The body has to heat it up to break it down.
I read that online just now.
Time is a matter of scale and balance.
Of keeping myself intact while shedding outer layers.
I turn in circles before the mirror.
I urinate and return to the mirror.
I turn in circles.
I try on everything in my closet before the mirror and hate it.
I look terrible changing.
I weigh myself again and again and again and still I am 92.
-aus Binary Star by Sarah Gerard
Remember how it was then that you slid your hand
into me, a fork in the electric toaster of my body. Jesus,
where did all these sparks come from? Where was all
-aus December by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz
(ganzer Text: http://www.muzzlemagazine.com/cristin-okeefe-aptowicz2.html)
And you think, my body was an ark once.
And you ask, would it still float? And in days,
your son will have breathed air as long as water.
And maybe Noah was a woman too.
They never told you this. But the rain
is coming and you are holding
a wad of your own hair in one hand
as your son’s head rests along the other.
-aus Other women don’t tell you by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach
(ganzer Text: http://www.muzzlemagazine.com/julia-kolchinsky-dasbach.html)
Statistics are quicksand, which means you can escape them by refusing to struggle
-aus Whiz Kid Harry Enten by Gerard Colletta
(ganzer Text: http://fogmachine.life/blog/2017/5/9/gerard-coletta)
That small plastic house,
the structure of bone
hidden between dusk
and elementary school classroom.
The plastic creak of small hands,
careful letting sleep lie.
-aus Dollhouse by Elspeth Jensen
(ganzer Text: https://rustandmoth.com/work/dollhouse/)
A bird in the hand, my mother always says.
But I think it depends on the bird and the hand
and the nature of the holding.
And in this lesson, am I the bird or the hand?
-aus A Bird in the Hand by Meghan Dunn
(ganzer Text: http://thecollagist.com/the-collagist/2016/4/9/a-bird-in-the-hand.html)
and what does it mean when, finally,
you fall asleep, and both awaken
to a gunshot in the dark—
like a single string
in the instrument of night
and she crawls into your arms
for protection—but of course not the real kind,
because that bullet, if aimed at you,
would have gone through you both—
-aus And. by Michael Lee
(ganzer Text: http://thecollagist.com/the-collagist/2016/6/7/and.html)