The Rising Phoenix Review posted: " In the kitchen, I fold the chair that holds my tantrum I am nothing more than a childchoking on my spitdefiling my kneessobbing,with a wide-Open mouthto feed. an overgrown childtaught to cry over spilledmilk,tofallat the feet of closed doors,to beg" The Rising Phoenix Review Read on blog or Reader In the kitchen, I fold the chair that holds my tantrum By Gissel Olazaba The Rising Phoenix Review February 1 In the kitchen, I fold the chair that holds my tantrum I am nothing more than a child choking on my spit defiling my knees sobbing, with a wide-Open mouth to feed. an overgrown child taught to cry over spilled milk, to fall at the feet of closed doors, to beg for a mop, only to have it snatched away. a starving child spoon-fed "if" green-eyed a biting belly turning itself into a crater devouring the vowels in Hunger. a rotten child embraced, left to bleed but if? but if I made you love me, with all this softness that kills I would harden for you to break. maldita desgraciada chiquiada the mop is back in my hand, but the white face swallows the wooden floor; I let the handle go. soon, I will be nothing more than a mouth a scream. By Gissel Olazaba Biography: Gissel Olazaba is a second-generation Mexican American poet from California. She has a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University, and hopes to pursue an MFA in the near future. Comment

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