Toast

When my mother tells me she is afraid
she is bland, I feel my stomach squeeze
the way it used to when I was a little girl
and the fever was spiking and the salty taste
of saliva made my insides recoil
until my mother came into the room, insisting
I eat something to settle my stomach—
something bland like toast or crackers
or even tea, she would coo.

When I look at the silver hair and fine lines now
framing her face, I want to tell my mother
there is no greater power than the quiet comfort
of slightly-burned toast as you take a few bites
and it sets about restoring your heath.

Mia Herman is a writer and editor living in Queens, NY. Her poems have appeared in or are forthcoming in Barren Magazine, Bellevue Literary Review, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, F(r)iction, Literary Mama, and Third Coast, and her nonfiction work earned an Honorable Mention in the 2014 Tom Howard / John H. Reid Fiction & Essay Contest. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Hofstra University and serves as the Creative Nonfiction Editor for F(r)iction as well as the Outreach Director for Brink Literacy Project. When she’s not writing or editing, Mia is most likely a) curating road trip playlists, b) watching obscene amounts of reality TV, or c) setting her friends up on blind dates. Follow her on Twitter @MiaMHerman.