The actors mill about the party saying rhubarb because other words do not sound like conversation. In the kitchen, always, one who's just discovered beauty, his mouth full of whiskey and strawberries. He practices the texture of her hair with his tongue; in her, five billion electrons pop their atoms. Rhubarb in electromagnetic loops, rhubarb, rhubarb, the din increases.
From ]Open Interval[ by Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon. Copyright © 2009 by Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon. Used by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press. All rights reserved.