Photo by Roberta Sant'Anna
Simple Question
Louis Faber
A woman walks up to me and asks
“can you juggle the salt and pepper shakers?”
but I know what she really wants
is for me to bind her wounds
and drag the sun quickly from the horizon.
I pick up two apples and a plum
but the plum falls to the floor and rolls
under a distant chair.
“It won't taste nearly as good,” she says
“unless I wash it in my tears
for my long dead mother.”
I take a pinch of salt
and toss the crystals into the air
but they flash between my fingers.
She curls on the floor, clutching her breasts
and sinks into sleep.
I take the pepper shaker
and put it in my jacket pocket
nestled against the dripping plum.
Louis Faber
A woman walks up to me and asks
“can you juggle the salt and pepper shakers?”
but I know what she really wants
is for me to bind her wounds
and drag the sun quickly from the horizon.
I pick up two apples and a plum
but the plum falls to the floor and rolls
under a distant chair.
“It won't taste nearly as good,” she says
“unless I wash it in my tears
for my long dead mother.”
I take a pinch of salt
and toss the crystals into the air
but they flash between my fingers.
She curls on the floor, clutching her breasts
and sinks into sleep.
I take the pepper shaker
and put it in my jacket pocket
nestled against the dripping plum.