Kleptomania III

— Jessica Q. Stark

Two decades later, my oldest sister

still worries about the photographs

taken in the grocery store breakroom.

The way the sweaty man’s eyes scanned

my mother’s body and told her she was

lucky—that we were all very lucky girls.

In another domain we are

wrist-punching the man’s glasses and

running for the door, we are

flinging open cash registers and

redistributing nametags. We are slicing

deli meat rapidly behind the counter

for our lunch. We are not standing

under fluorescence, choosing

whether to smile for the evidence

of our wanting too much at a time.

Read more from Issue No. 22 or share on Twitter.