By Victoria McArtur
Then I put that almond
full of fear, into a blender.
I strained it, made it
into milk and sucked.
Spat it back
into the teat
that gave it to me.
Shut it off there.
Told it shut up.
How many times
did I have my mouth
washed out for saying
that to my mother,
Shut Up
and will I ever get
the taste of her fear
clean from my
Making mouth.
To make what
Makers make
you must first set
your fear aside.
Leave it like you’ve
left the water
so many times.
Let it roll over
rocks and chip,
let it dry out
and flake off
like summer’s skin
before it's time
to get serious again.
They say all our fear
comes from a small
almond-shaped
control center
in our brain. I've
soaked my almond
in water, sucked
in fear until it’s full.
Victoria McArtor holds an MFA from Oklahoma State University; is a former adjunct professor for the University of Tulsa; works for a luxury residential mortgage team; and is co-founder of a poetry and collaborative arts nonprofit, MUSED. To read more of McArtor’s poetry and prose, visit victoriamcartor.com