Making Chutney by Mercedes Webb-Pullman

The baby died two days after birth.
These green tomatoes will never ripen, Jessica.

CT scan’s topography, fingerprint maps.
Onion rings. Here in the apple’s star core
the heart excised, sliced.

Love turns all at once – milk in a thunderstorm,
throat-choking vinegar. The salty crystals
of your kiss, sugar-aching.

Simmer gently, until you can’t tell things apart –
everything’s the same fucking metaphor.

Mercedes Webb-Pullman graduated from IIML Victoria University Wellington with MA in Creative Writing in 2011. Her poems and short stories have appeared online and in print, in Turbine, 4th Floor, Swamp, Reconfigurations, The Electronic Bridge, poetryrepairs, Connotations, The Red Room, Otoliths, Cliterature  among others, and in her books. She lives on the Kapiti Coast, New Zealand.

Mercedes Webb-Pullman graduated from IIML Victoria University Wellington with MA in Creative Writing in 2011. Her poems and short stories have appeared online and in print, in Turbine, 4th Floor, Swamp, Reconfigurations, The Electronic Bridge, poetryrepairs, Connotations, The Red Room, Otoliths, Cliterature among others, and in her books. She lives on the Kapiti Coast, New Zealand.

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