Salad Days

I’m standing by the kitchen
sink in my underwear,
bare feet touching
something sticky. Through
the window I can see
the kids next door
taking turns
pushing each other
over the grass
in a blue shopping cart.
I’m peeling carrots
for a salad.
Orange curls
dropping
into a glass bowl.
One of them curved
just so. Reminding me
of the shape
of your mouth
as you kiss
my nipples. I shiver
as the children scream outside.

Chandra Alderman lives in Northeast Ohio where she writes mostly letters and sometimes poetry. She is often seen out in the wild with a camera, spying on nature, everyday life, and writers. Her photography has been featured on chapbooks published by Nightballet Press and Crisis Chronicles Press, and also online at Thirteen Myna Birds and The Octopus Review. More than all of this, she is trying to compose the perfect bowl of soup. You can follow her adventures at https://www.facebook.com/peggy.honeydew