nourish
Lydia Prendergast
nourish
flour-caked fingers reach inside for the contents,
the cusping handle developing a powder film as
the smell wafts over to me; static waves lagging between telephone lines,
chiseled features still present in the ever-blurring pixels.
whispers through microphones and late night tip toeing across
maple hardwood, fluorescent light illuminating our features reaching
for the citrus— that my mother keeps in the chilled barrel— giggling
in desperate hope for the mere noise that even cacophony
could supplement. i would ask why your peanut butter is always cold
when you reach back in, bringing it into warm light and i miss
the unsettling frigidity on my tongue and the warm tones of your kitchen and
you. i miss you
most of all. not always in the form of the simple phrase but by longing
for the heat of your body close to mine, hands intertwining
on the berry colored counter as we knead. you would handle
the flour, know i hate the feeling of it on my hands
in an act of i love you and god do i miss you—
the oven dings.
Lydia Prendergast
Lydia Prendergast is currently a creative writing student at Emerson College in Boston, MA. Recently published in WACK Mag for her poem 'Knitting', Lydia often writes about her experience growing up with anxiety and chronic illness. She expands on how this has translated into her daily life as she comes of age in such a tumultuous world. Alongside writing, Lydia has a love for reading, hand-knitting, baking dairy and gluten free goods, and hanging out with her 10 year old golden retriever, Riley and 2 years old cat, Frida. She hopes to publish a poetry book within the next few years.