Is it like peeling ginger root skin with a spoon,
the sadness for losing something you did not want?
Is it what coats the fingers when you squeeze a lemon?
What language exists for replacing existing emptiness
with a new emptiness that mourns in spite of you?
I think the root should be Latin; Latin loves quiet turmoil
and linden leaf tea. Latin feels appropriately weighty.
Can it have two suffixes, for the sake of accuracy?
Truth is I’ve never wanted a baby and, despite this sadness,
I still don’t want one; all this emotion feels wasteful.
I cook large dinners and insist on smoked sea salt,
as if I wasn’t shedding a tear or two over the saucepan.
What is the clinical term for when you don't have a potato peeler
so you use a paring knife, and no matter how good you are, you lose a little potato?
and if you’re not very good, you lose the entire potato.
