two poems by Rebecca Schumejda

Saving the Cookies

While I review the ingredient list
in search of what went wrong,
somewhere women and children
are being used as human shields.
The cup of flour left out, sits alone
behind a box of baking soda. Too often,
when forsaken, we pity ourselves
as if there aren’t worse fates.

Missing Ingredient

When pulled from the oven
the cookies, short one cup of flour,
amalgamated like my family
sleeping together on the living room floor
the night before my father’s funeral.


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