Culture

The jar has been vibrating

on the radiator for twenty days.

I didn’t think cabbage and salt

could make a smell this loud,

a heavy, sour weight that sits

at the back of my throat.

When I twisted the lid,

the pressure gave a wet pop.

A thick, yellowish foam bubbled up,

sliding over my knuckles

like something that didn't want

to be born in the dark.

One slice of onion is pressed

flat against the glass,

translucent and limp,

like a drowned tongue

trying to tell me

it has gone too far.