by P.C. Vandall

I am the housewife
in a house coat
watching sun rise and set
on an unmade bed, an unmade
woman, an unmade mind.

I am the wife lost in the blue
fibers of lint long picked
clean, pared down
like the skin of an apple
in the stainless steel sink.

I am the butcher’s wife, shaved
and lean with tenderloins
wrapped in blue velvet.
He’s the butcher, far too busy
chewing the fat to notice.

Pamela is the author of two chapbooks of poetry: “Something from Nothing” (Writing Knights Press) and “Woodwinds” (Lipstick Press). Pamela’s first full length poetry collection, “Crows Taste Best on Toast” is forthcoming from Lady Lazarus Press. Her poetry was recently nominated for the Pushcart prize. When Pamela is not writing, she’s sleeping. She believes sleep is death without the commitment.

What fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, writing, revision of this piece?

    “Carving” is semi autobiographical as my husband is a meat cutter and I do wear a blue housecoat that should have been tossed out years ago. This was one of those poems that came to me quite easily and only received small edits. Most of my poems require many revisions. I find the act of meat cutting much like poetry. I try to cut poems closest to the bone, trim the fat where possible and marinate with the best words available.[/expand]

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