portion of the artwork for JR Walsh's poetry

JR Walsh

I wrote a note on the fridge. Before.
Feed/water cabbage … she had added:
                                           & baby!
             Slid behind a menu for Chinese.
Now. No way to edit. Couldn’t toss it.

Our Chinese restaurant burned down.
             (Not now, two years & counting ago.)
Hoped to rebuild, then didn't.

Up the street, there’s a new joint:
Calzones & Stuffed Stuff!
but no flyers since the owner’s a friend
& our fridge is a death sentence.

We’re vegetarians sometimes. Picklers
always. There are live active cultures
in sauerkraut. We can’t stop eating it.

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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 56 | Fall/Winter 2020