By Miranda Max
she returns
from the kitchen
with a burn on her arm
leaves and comes back
with more
it’s delicious,
we say
Oath
with heavy lids
and an arched spine, I listen
for someone to call out my name
to invite me out to play
while I’ve set the jam out to wait, to be placed
at the center of the kolacky
a marvelous dappling of red
like a droplet of blood
from the oath we took
A Chicagoland resident, Miranda Max has been actively writing poetry and fiction since she was a teenager. Her work has been featured in After Hours and the Prairie Light Review.