Laura Mei Roghaar
1. The law creates me
Which law is it that creates the mother. The baby having come, the baby being had. She being, had, and not as meat only, but also, not not that. Okay. We are bodily given over to one another.
The neck of the turkey, its muted whining, half-stuck to the pan. The half-brown meat writhes alively, leaks and sputters in the pan. Which law is it that names things meat. Which sets that thing, meat, to browning in a pan. Or me. What law gives law validity.
When the boss calls I’ll know what to say. I have rehearsed the well-saying. A toilet flushes underfoot. Her baby voice crows under. Gland in my body decides a meaning to ascribe.