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Click title to download PDF microchap
Cover art by Evie Trabant McKenna
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To the cook from the brownies
Hey! Check the pan size!
We’re getting all dried out
and flat. We’re so not good
like that. We’re deep dude,
a dense mess where taste trebles
and all non-chocolate thoughts
grow wise and acquit. We plan
to dazzle you with depth of cocoa,
texture, and sweet. And when
you pick that larger pan
you are ruining the treat.
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doing our best
with two days left in the calendar year,
it's our night
to feed the entire, extended family
and it's been a long one:
kids grew, dog buried by the beech,
screen doors that don't slam plus
the three weddings, two divorces, and
the one therapist
who sees everyone at once
tonight we offer our signature fresh flavor
delight all tastebuds
with open and grateful hearts
it’s our night
and its been a long one
as we hold air in our chests
eyes steady each other
over the shared family recipe book
two hands rip our recipe
out, so we can empty
our lungs
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Please
Let’s go
reheat the kettle now
share the hot water as hips
swing to ring
each other, our morning
ministrations
Let’s go
sing the seconds
in the kitchen
lay our bottom lip
on the inch-thick ceramic cup
our first daily sip
eyes to find each other
fresh in steam
forget that scream
and swallow
warm milky liquid
rich roasted flavor
sweet
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No eggs in the frittata tonight
Who knows how to treat the hen’s gift well?
Prep the pan with swift slippery heat before
any shell is cracked. Who knows
the beautiful coax where butter and salt hug
the whole, and heat stills the stirred up
yolk. We all know. Every woman
round this island bakes for birthdays
knows nana’s novelties, feeds
even herself. So who knows why we all
must shift the setting under the skillet
tonight? Tonight we adjust the stove so often
we scorch the gifts gathered just this morning
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This Mourning
This is one of those times magnets fall off the fridge as we fumble
for coffee cream. This is dressing business casual with an emblem
for the team in center of our chest. This is how you knew the checks were mailed despite being lean. This is the day! We don our stripes, Socks for Soldiers everyone! (ACHOO) Same pair hung out to air each night. Like troops over there. (Bless you) This is our next shift to the right. And shooting stats shared out too.
Maybe this, too, will pass?
Is this time to move to Canada? or count who’s flying Old Glory?
Who is best at sass? This is one of those times we’re unsure what
to say so perhaps we’ll birth a meme? It’ll take all day to see,
there’s TP stuck to our shoe.
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Tonya McKenna Trabant © 2021
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Tonya McKenna Trabant is a coach, educator, poet, mom living in rural Wisconsin with her partner, their two near-perfect offspring, a rescued dog, and some laying hens. Her poems appear in Clockhouse Journal, Bramble, Verse Wisconsin, Icebox Journal, and others. She is a willingly displaced Alaskan who writes to catalyze human connection, justice, and joy.