An excerpt from Chores, by Maggie Burton

Cleaning Out the Fridge

Shelves weighed down with unnecessary bits of lives sustained by convenience— store turkey, dressing & gravy sandwiches. Packets of tartar sauce resting in vegetable drawers drowning in old cucumber juice. You are saucy enough, I hear Nan say, fishing them out. Ancient jars of pickled weiners from a time when my ex was trying new things and I told him I would soon say I told you so. My mouth puckers into a shape I remember from when flippers were cooked, the grossness of this Saturday chore too much for me, the jar whips out of my hand, breaks everything. I don’t sweep it up. Glass will probably settle in my feet in pieces too small to feel anyway.

Chores

Maggie Burton Breakwater Books