a recipe for oppression
i.
and there is something cold about the way
dry fingers burn on rusty stoves.
there is something sweet about how
flesh shrivels-
the woman bleeds
within these four walls-
no, the woman will bleed here,
always.
ii.
it was a cold cold morning
when it had been passed on to me,
there was something cruel about how
the note was crippled and-
but she had smiled at me;
i had liked how her lips felt against my cheek-
it had reeked of finality.
that was the last time i saw
aunt z.
iii.
it was a hot hot morning
when the note was opened.
aunt z had been beaten to
death and the note
reeked of warm blood
now.
easy cake recipe (for beginners)
i could see how her pale frail
fingers had scribbled it.
iv.
ingredients:
2 sticks unsalted butter (room temperature)
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups sugar
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups whole milk (or 3/4 cup heavy cream mixed with 1/2 cup water)
-whisk 3 cups flour, the baking powder and salt in a bowl. whisk until they no longer cry. whisk until every last breath is crushed from their ribs. beat 2 sticks butter and the sugar in a large bowl with a mixer on medium-high speed. beat until the bleed to death, like-
no, until they are light and fluffy, yes. about three minutes. three minutes are enough to kill a woman. three minutes are enough to scream out in terror. three minutes are enough to be not heard (or are they?). beat for three minutes. now reduce the mixer speed to medium, (the neighbours must not hear). leave the mix alone, dead things don't talk; now beat in the eggs, one at a time, slowly, deliberately, scraping down the bowl as needed. beat in the vanilla. It must not reek of dead flesh under the sofa. beat in the flour mixture in 3 batches, Head Torso Legs alternating with the milk, beginning and ending with flour, until just smooth.
v.
and there is something rotten-
no, why must there always be something,
there is nothing left.