On the Morning of November 9, 2016,
I had a Pumpkin Pie for Breakfast
Yes, I started my day by eating
a whole pumpkin pie, cold, straight
from the tin while standing before
the open fridge, telling myself,
as the chilled air stilled my blood
and kept at bay more tears and sighs
laced with venom and hurt, that
nothing’s wrong with being a woman
who eats with her fingers and makes
a mess at her feet, not when
no ceiling broke the night before,
when our nation elected him--
when to survive this day and the next
four years’ worth will require many
more small, nourishing acts of self-
indulgence and sweet defiance.
First published in The Rumpus, January 7, 2017
I had a Pumpkin Pie for Breakfast
Yes, I started my day by eating
a whole pumpkin pie, cold, straight
from the tin while standing before
the open fridge, telling myself,
as the chilled air stilled my blood
and kept at bay more tears and sighs
laced with venom and hurt, that
nothing’s wrong with being a woman
who eats with her fingers and makes
a mess at her feet, not when
no ceiling broke the night before,
when our nation elected him--
when to survive this day and the next
four years’ worth will require many
more small, nourishing acts of self-
indulgence and sweet defiance.
First published in The Rumpus, January 7, 2017