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.