Sometimes, I eat flowers. There is something ridiculously
decadent about eating flowers, I think. Nasturtiums are
lovely on salad, did you know? Peppery, they bite back.
Last year I made dandelion jelly. They turned my fingers
green and the stems taste like holy hell fire. But the jelly?
Oh! Wildly decadent, the jelly eats like sunshine in a jar.
Mostly, I eat words. Sometimes, they taste bitter. Like cacao
without the sugar and I know there’s good reason for bitter
words, but good reasons will never make bitter taste better.
My sister makes faces out of food and her wee girls giggle as
they gobble kale hair and turnip noses and I think there is
good merit to shaping palate by making bitter palatable.
I don’t want to eat your angry words anymore. You are not
wrong. But still, I would go to bed hungry first. Mama used
to say it’s not what you say, but how you say it that matters.
Me, I like sunny words. Like, look — we can fix this together,
instead of look what you did, he did, she did. Let’s try this!
Anger makes me weary. I think I have eaten too much of it.