Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2019

Flash Paper

Flash Paper

Photograph via Flickr by rox sm

he gave me the first word, “love” on the day
we were married, wrote it on a piece of paper,
folded it into fourths, and said, “eat it.”
I put “love” in my mouth
swallowed hard, felt it go down my throat
it was weeks before

I got the second word, “home,” and this time
he fed it to me in tiny pieces, so small
the word was illegible, could only be reassembled
somewhere inside me, slowly, through the process
of digestion. I think some of the pieces must have gotten stuck
halfway down, never meeting the rest,
because although I do believe

I understood “love”
I never felt completely
“home.”