The day will slice itself into a lemon
I was recently published in the newest issue of Cosmonauts Avenue, so I spent some time the last few days reading the work of my fellow issue-mates. Monica Rico’s poem immediately got my attention not only with its title, but the delicious, poignant tastes of her words—“the salt and sour” present in her language, imagery, and setting. Here, Rico’s afterlife still has its sweet mundanities like cups of coffee, car keys, and color discussions, but it also contains “congealed queso fresco” and “the creased eyes of a petal”. The role of food serves as the connecting point between the speaker, her parents, and her grandmother—from tortillas to lemons to enchiladas, this poem makes me hungry not just to eat, but to consume everything stunning and consider what my own afterlife might be life.