She brought a rock
to show-and-tell—
pink and marbled

like baby’s skin.
A salt rock, she said.
Taste it.

She licked first,
said we should lick it too.
The others passed,

afraid of Terri’s spit
or was it because
the rock looked like flesh?

When it reached me,
I hesitated.
But I touched it with tongue

because hers had touched first.
Touched it with tongue
wanting to know more about

rock, salt, spit
and flesh.

+

T.C. Jones is an associate editor at Cleaver Magazine and a contributing editor at Burrow Press. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Green Mountains Review, Hotel Amerika, Pacifica Literary ReviewThe Atticus Review, Forth River, Dos Passos Review, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and others.