Excerpt: Standing on One Leg

Even though I'm not sure why and it makes as close to zero sense as I can get, these are the things I know. I am represented by soup. The sometimes warm, sometimes cold almost beverage almost meal yet not quite food that can sustain you if you let it. My husband is the number one. Not the one that you draw when you're in a hurry, the straight up-and-down line that can mean anything. No, he's the three-lined one, with the little bend at the top that you're not quite sure of and the stable platform below. Always so very stable. And finally, my lover is the number four. Number four like when you're lying down in bed and bend your right foot behind your left knee and wonder: Can I stand up like this? I can at first, but the more things I hold in my hands the more certain I become that I will topple over without a hope of getting back up again. Not much I can do about it other than continuing to live.