by Eric Freeze
Rubber Cement. It's my only defense. The only thing that will work to wean my child. And it is work. Like my oldest daughter— the first time she took her collage to school unfinished. There was a hole right in the middle, she said, crying while her schoolmates laughed. Bits of trauma, I suppose, exposure like the open seams of a potato split on the ground before it is planted. Splitting into all its parts and eyes.
