Corn
Learning to be kind to myself is a bit like shucking corn. Slowly. Too methodically. This sacramental deed that wields a mild sweetness. Each smooth frond twirls in her soft dress. The hairs flourish and excite. Salted corn is blessing—it seeds even through your salting. I shuck kindness into my kitchen, too slowly. And remember, peeling back—I like my kindness, my seed, slowly. Kari Flickinger's poetry and short stories can be found in Written Here: The Community of Writers Poetry Review, Panoply, Milk Journal, Susurrus, Falcon Scratch, The Daily Californian, and The DVC Inquirer. She is an alumna of UC Berkeley. |