I teach my daughter the art of vegetarianism, which cheese should be eaten with which bread, how ginger is a cure-all for stomach and heart pain. It is good, at each day’s beginning and end, to quiet the mind, to balance the vata. Chopin’s preludes require a light hand and a tuned piano. At night, I read her Blake’s Songs of Experience, of Yeats’ isles in water. She knows goodnight in French and your grandmother’s German. When she sleeps I clear the fruit, from the table where we used to play Scrabble. And sometimes at the sink I’m startled by the ghost of your hands on my waist.
Danielle Sellers is originally from Key West, Florida. She has an MA from The Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University and an MFA from the University of Mississippi where she held the Grisham Poetry Fellowship. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Subtropics, Smartish Pace, Cimarron Review, Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, 32 Poems, and elsewhere. Her book, Bone Key Elegies, was published in 2009 by Main Street Rag. She lives in Winter Springs, Florida, where she edits The Country Dog Review.
The food that gives her the most sustenance is “probably the day-after-Thanksgiving turkey sandwich. It’s got to be homemade white bread cut thick, slathered with mayo, turkey of course, jellied cranberry sauce from the can, and dressing. It reminds my of my childhood, my grandmother, all things that are good and holy.”
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