Theresa Monteiro

She has turned
the fig of antiquity
into a cookie which
nobody likes, made
by a machine of which
the foiled woman
in the salon chair, seen
in a mirror, becomes
a parody—aluminum
in bland precision. Only in dreaming
does she have her say, waking so
inarticulate, and so, eventually
silent. Only the robot
woman from the smoke detector
speaks saying, "fire"
as the toast, or something else,
burns. But she is not
alarmed at all.

Theresa Monteiro lives in New Hampshire with her husband and their six children. She is a recent graduate of the MFA program at the University of New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in Silver Needle Press, Good Fat Poetry, and Lunation and she is the recipient of the 2019 Dick Shea Memorial Award for poetry.

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