This lamb has an old taste, not rotten or anything, just beyond gamey. It’s a putrid flavor, something garlic and oregano can’t disguise. Maybe I should have baked it longer.
Vonnegut told me the creative brain’s baked by 55. That’s the right side I guess. That means my mind’s already half-dead and years past gamey.
I apply mint jelly—that gives the lamb a snap of freshness. I think of a playful creature as I chew, one springing up a bright green hill to greet its mother.
About the AuthorKirby Wright was born and raised in Hawaii and received his MFA from San Francisco State University. He was the 2014 Writer in Residence at the Earthskin Artist Colony in Auckland, New Zealand. His latest book is NOTES ABOVE WATER: Selected Poems.