by Kelly Pedro If there was one thing Edith never gave up, it was her recipe for chicken blood rice. Natalia had drawn out some of the ingredients from her sister—obvious ones like chicken blood and rice, but also a few Natalia would have never guessed on her own. Red wine. Vinegar. Bay leaves. But …
I’m a living doll in a dollhouse I cup the hot ceramic eggshell with blue flowers demand it be sweetened “but we don’t put sugar in this tea” I’m told (why not?) I sip bitter the strange leaves settling at the bottom left unfinished half will sit untouched by the time my parents pick up …
Though red, it was an ordinary rose, meaning it did not come in love or deep appreciation, but was offered to me, and one like it to my daughter, by a waiter on Mother’s Day. Without vase, the rose found water in a tall glass on my kitchen counter. Perfection is not a word …