A piece of skin the size of a quarter and the shape of Texas
A clot (swallowed)
35 plastic army men
A birthday card
A jar of sauerkraut
A painter’s canvas
A block of cheese
2 5lb weights (one from each nostril)
A rolled up newspaper from 2016
6 popcorn kernels
part of an optical nerve
3 baby teeth
my frontal lobe
a live panther
a Christmas wreath
a box of tissues
a pot of gold
Taco Baby chews the pits from avocadoes.
Refries string beans on the hot sidewalk.
Burns her feet.
Squirms when the shopping cart collector
rattles by says I just want to eat
you all up pinches her blotchy pink
wrist before snagging
another quarter from the return slot.
Taco Baby’s too round to run
Cracks a cream soda sniffles
on the curbside and thumbs the flyer
for a better sale on probiotics.
Kate Hargreaves | Windsor ON | 2016