my worst habit
BY ALIA BALES
My worst habit is that I get so tired of winter
I am a torture to those around me.
I boil rice too long, serve this to my friends
who are too polite to refuse me.
We swallow locks of very blonde hair.
A panic of the throat.
This seems to be a permanent sensation.
The salted fish climbs onto the grill
and returns to the water.
I don’t stop him.
Now the sea is made of salt.
Now we know thirst.
I am tired of winter.
Is this hell, this wanting?
My friend who loves me doesn’t answer.
My hair blondes in the heat of my kitchen.