“She couldn’t stop—she did it almost every afternoon while they napped or later sat upstairs with homework. She listened to the scrape of desk chairs on the ceiling while she measured and blended, hummed from oven to sink, redolence rising in a sweet promise she thought was required, didn’t know how…”— Lisa C. Krueger, apmpodcasts.orgTagged: Poetry, The Slowdown, Napping, Empty-Handed