If I Was a Kitchen

If I was a kitchen, I’d want an old-fashioned woman at my counters, rolling dough, canning  pickles, chutney, jam, homemade pasta sauce, and every Sunday a roast. She’d wear her sweat like a saint, ignore her aching back, one practiced hand feeding her Carnation baby, while other children flocked to Formica, hot flesh sticking to […]

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