a brief list of everything grief tastes like

by nicole fellah

Poetry


a freezer banana whose fermented sweetness
has compacted into tasteless ice
june tomatoes that chalk when split open,
spilling mealy newborn pink
when the season is late
distilled water that sat in a car for three months
and each day reached its boiling point

beets, ya dig!

fossilized grain larvae in the cardboard
coffin of an unopened cereal box
a bar-counter lemon that swallows its own
bitterness before you do
beef tartare before egg yolk, muscle and brine
without velveteen fat
oxidized penny blood leached from gum
by a dental technician’s suction wand

breast milk diapers, or sugary shit

for some reason, rum-washed coffee beans

nail polish-stained fingertips whose color
seeps into the next thing eaten
chocolate and orange together,
the battery-acid sweetness
stem decomposition
dry soil, so much dry soil

 

 


nicole fellah is a writer and editor based in Venice, California. She earned a multidisciplinary Master of Professional Writing at the University of Southern California, where, as a graduate assistant lecturer, she taught Writing and Critical Reasoning. She will attend Tin House Summer Workshop in 2025.

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