All of the wild wild ways my great-grandmother used to have in Poland, before Auschwitz dealings, are still inside of her. My great-babki mainly wants cheeses grilled in bread — she feels she is escaping concentration-camp hunger pains with every bite.
She flattens the sandwiches in the back of our kitchen, with an antique iron, the Sunbeam with the letters printed down its back, written like the numbers tattooed on her forearm, treacherously labeling dear skin; age-freckled.
Natasha L. Heller: I have had poems published in the Blue Earth Review, Critique, and Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression, as well as creative non-fiction published in the periodical GreenPrints. I have fiction forthcoming.
The Centifictionist 
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