Can Cabbage Make You Write?
Today I am feeling the pressure of cabbage. Really, cabbage. The opaque vegetable reminds me of a fat baby-faced candle you keep peeling back, only to find it has no wick, just a ruffly heart that, at the last, clings to a core of root flesh and holds nothing but air.
It is not particularly in the nature of cabbage to pressure people who have too much to do and too much on their minds. Cabbages are rather humble things, yielding to knives for the sake of coleslaw and to peasant hands for a laying open to receive stuffings of onions, rice and ground beef.
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Painting by Linda Dallas, from Cover of Englewood Review of Books.