Turnstone Press

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Air is Elastic, The

Private details of our livesCan you see my heart hidden in the jar of jam? Can you touch the moonlight I baked into the cake? Can you smell the night of love in the chocolate raspberry tart? The pulse of my life on the tip of a whisk. I watch the hot bead slide from a spoon onto my nail. Eye the glistening globule like my mother did. Years of experience to judge it right. The drop from my heart sets tight. Jam is ready. My love in the jar. I turn the bowl of whipped egg whites upside down. They do not slide. Ready, Aunt Ida would say. I offer you a taste of sunshine, light summery day, happiness on your fork with the milky-warm smell of vanilla. I teach my daughtera little trick I use. Cook your beets in something sour. The magic to turn earth's roots into gleaming, red rubies.

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