By Jared Pearce
I had to traipse around
to the front door, and
when I opened it she
smiled, said, I’m making ganache,
which is how I picture perfect
death: I’m worn out
after life, and I find my
way in, and I’m not looking
for anything, but there
she is, cooking up chocolate,
wanting me there.
Jared Pearce grew up in California, earned a BA (1998) and MA (2000) in English at BYU, and now lives in Iowa. He is grateful that Inscape was one of the first journals to share his poems.
