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9116, Weekly Meal Plan (2 poems)
I tossed the string of spaghetti from palm to palm
until it was cool enough to chew.
He always called me over
for a taste test
while she always
told me to rest.
trapped in amber,
lapped in love.
WEEKLY MEAL PLAN
There’s raw garlic under my nails.
The food is burning in the other room,
but we’re all consumed,
Dinner is doomed
Emma Sullivan (she/her) is an emerging poet living in Berlin. Her work is modern candor meets feminine acuity meets lyrical rhyme. You can follow her work on Instagram @in_klein_ or see her perform monthly with the Dark Night Arts artists collective.
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