Julia Paganelli is a first-year poetry MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas. She has been published by BOAAT Press, Chatauqua Literary Journal, and HOOT Literary Magazine, among others. Her chapbook about young mountain women, Blush Less, will be released from Finishing Line Press in February 2015.---------
Vinegar
You are not in this city,
and haven’t asked about it.
I sweep the floor
like you built it
and the wood took on
like you built it
and the wood took on
the form of your hands
like clay would:
I tread lightly.
I touch the bristles
of the broom to the floor
with gentleness:
of the broom to the floor
with gentleness:
with my whole body.
The ladies laughed at me
when I couldn’t sweep:
The ladies laughed at me
when I couldn’t sweep:
when I chased the mud
and crumbs around the room.
I didn’t cry when I came home
but I practiced on the tiles.
Open something holy;
open the refrigerator.
open the refrigerator.
On a telephone call
you complained I left
a bowl with batter and water
in the sink, and it got moldy.
I did not leave my hands
with you to do the dishes,
even though your place
smells like girl still.
Set vinegar out in
an old dish I left.
I’ve heard that this
absorbs the scent
old tenants leave behind.