Tomatoed
by Margarita Cruz
In the cracks of my palm, mama presses
masa into crevices, dries out
my skin, blistered from the sun. I don’t
cry out when I begin to bleed into bowl
instead we watch as it tomatoes,
into some dish I used to eat.
When she leaves me,
I press spoon to liver,
release oils into pot.
Margarita Cruz is a MFA candidate for Creative Writing at Northern Arizona University. Formerly a bouncer for an Irish pub, she now spends time writing as a columnist for Flagstaff Live!, teaches English at Northern Arizona University, hosts a local radio show Words and Notes and spends time working at Bright Side Bookshop. She is current editor in chief of Thin Air Magazine. Her work has been featured in Curios, Miracle Monocle and Susquehanna Review.
