Last week, I went to the supermarket and saw
her eyes etched into the tomatoes.
My mother whispered,
she’s pretty if that’s your type,
but everything beautiful eventually turns to dust
Like wilting lettuce.
and I think about the time I told my husband
to get red onions and he came back with white,
as though color were only a suggestion,
as though wanting could be mistranslated.

– Amber Moss