A chunk of pink meat exits her delicate pout. She presses it against the oven door and licks it hard. Like the lumps of butter she stirs, her scorn for people melts away- Flour blankets her body. She contemplates the gaunt silhouette staring back at her- Black drips of grease on a white canvas. Red lush lips and eyes too big. She licks the dirty girl away and flinches as she touches herself. Good Catholic girls shouldn’t paint, they shall clean.
Flour by Eva Depoorter