the heart is the bitterest part,
you say. And i, idiot body,
am so wrapped in leaves and laughter
i can’t stand to hear the crunch.
you always want to keep me
from undressing entirely.
it’s the cocoon that interests you,
the passageway you whisk
with platitudes while i, bitter brain,
silently beg for something simple:
garlic, lemon, and olive oil.
with you, it is as it is with shallots:
we lose soil as we root into the earth.
Christine Aletti has an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work has appeared in numerous online journals, including r.k.vr.y, and Two Hawks Quarterly. She teached literature to teenagers, yoga to adults, and serves drinks to rowdy bar patrons. She’s always searching for stillness.