Malak Mattar, Untitled (detail), 2024, charcoal on paper
Death in the Spicerack
I saw it only once
couched
Between the parsley flakes
And a box of cloves,
Just to the left of the basil,
Wet and dark,
Tearing with needle teeth
And tiny baby hands
At a bulb of garlic.
It happened just after
The news of a death in
My family had come
Scampering out of the telephone
And on past my ear.
Published:
W. M. Stahl
W. M. Stahl is writing full time. He is working concurrently on poems, short fictions, a novel and occasionally churning out an article, “to pacify my creditors.” (1975)
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