Cassandra Opens the Jar of Peanut Butter and Drops in the Only Clean Spoon by Kari Flickinger published on 2019-12-04T18:11:32Z Poem Below: Cassandra Opens the Jar of Peanut Butter and Drops in the Only Clean Spoon Shaking today. I stood up too long. There are so many objects in the way when I move. I can barely move. Even writing is upturning the centripetal. Hands shouldn’t. I worry this will never go away when it returns. Everything undoes itself. Trembles. Roars. But, if I died right now, I could die near some soup looking out at trees with my cat and that seems like the best way to go. I could die near some soup. The canned kind. Minestrone. Low sodium. Glaring out the small window. at the giant light that looks like a head. or a moon in orbit. The taller taller. taller leaves. climb ing the tree. the kind tree that reaches down. to my wind ow. the cat. staring out at the squirrel. and chittering. ch ch ch ch ch ch. this seems like the best way. If I died right now, I could die here in this quiet kitchen. No video games. No one to badger me with their determination for my life, or their track for how I should have seen signs, symbols the setting, or steps for what they think are earned amends. The moon. The moon out staring glare at night. a pot of tea. the carrots i route from the soup. the cat, fluttering mildly near his window, top of the tree. This is the way I go. Genre Storytelling