Love Poem Without Wheat

If you can ’t eat it I won’teat it, he says to my sisterwhen she tests positivefor celiac. Then they makeof themselves a small countryin North Jersey where wheatwill not grow, nor be bought,nor be baked into breador cake, and in their solidaritythey will no longer miss it.Already her spine has a commaat it s base where the boneis brittling like candy: symptomof the thing she has. Let otherssavor what is soft and warmfrom an oven, torn into.They will step from the garden—arms full of yellow heirlooms,deep greens to be sautéedfor supper, rice. Two glassesof wine before the washing up.
Source: JAMA - Category: General Medicine Source Type: research