Holly PettitKettleThe Way (Tao te aqua) water crouches silencing the twinge of nerve and clatter of earbones, drops its head between its shoulder blades and waits. makes me think that inside me is an idea, some troublesome, axiomatic suggestion, waiting to boil. Table at Denny’s Route 95, Maryland What we were thinking of -- bra straps and lipstick, headboards and cigarettes, sliding glass doors onto unawakened morning. Don’t you know that when I taste my fork it means I want you? When I see your hand palm-down on the table, what is your answer? Born on a SAC base in Washington state, raised in Alabama, Holly Pettit served as a Russian Linguist for the U.S. Army, graduated Harvard Divinity School, and was a telemarketer-for-the-homeless in Boston. She lives in Darmstadt, Germany. As a member of the online forum, Zeugma, her short stories and poems have appeared in various periodicals such as 2River Poetry, Melic, and Salt River Review. Her poem, “Irkutsk,” won first prize in the 1st Annual Poetry competition of the e-zine Tapestry. Home | Editor's Desk | Poetry | Prose | Guidelines | Email | Links |