This evening felt like childhood and church and Bacchanalia.

I do not try to resolve the contradictions

of men with fan fetishes and offers of red wine like holy communion,

with the phallic kielbasa that reminds me of my grandparents

and eating langos, Hungarian fried dough, in their Scarborough home,

and phrases in a language I’ve mostly forgotten,

and the resonance of chanted languages I never knew but know the sounds of

after years of borscht in the basement of an Eastern Orthodox church.

Sarah Varnam is the founder of The Quilliad Press, (and the lit and art journal’s editor-in-chief). Her writing has appeared in Third Wednesday, Chrysalis, Verse Virtual, A Quiet Courage, Poetry Nook, and other publications.