Prose and Poetry Writing as a Practice

The Second Day of Thanksgiving Week

Leftover Apple Dumplings, it turns out,

make a good breakfast. Heated warm

cinnamon caramel sauce melting in hot tea, melting

in my mouth,

pomegranate tang.


My scratch crust, it turns out,

came out perfection. Salted

crisp flakes holding crunchy exoskeleton, hug

pillowed soft apple flesh,

Pink Lady tart.


Four of my children, it turns out,

enormous newborn adults, all

long bodied loud laughter petitions, sighs

“life’s exhausting,

Mama Pie.”


Hot Apple Dumpling Night


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