by Kent Kosack
All my friends are suicidal and
I just want to make a sandwich.
There’s a jar of roast peppers in
the back of the fridge. I tell them
to find their own jar of roast peppers
in this fridge called life but people
struggle to appreciate good
advice when they’re suicidal.
A jar of peppers, I tell them again
and again, until my voice goes
hoarse, cracks, dries up to nothing,
until there’s just the hunger left,
the yawning fridge, the cold.
****
Kent Kosack is a writer with recent work in minor literature[s], the Heavy Feather Review, Some Words, and 3:AM Magazine. His novella, Adar's Freedom, is out now with Subtle Body Press.