Cloudy with the mother
Another pressured bottle of vinegar
tightens and rips in the conservator’s kitchen
Beans and spliced linens
Each material self-possessed in her individual applications
Her voice is within the slime at the bottom
Each component slick and gelatinous
Amalgams of goop raking light across fields
leaving behind a sort of glazed amber gravy’s residual substance
acidic with volume
She’s making a world from work and play
of junkyard archival salad education
Throwing goop into the heat until it burns through the questions
Where is she
What is she married to
