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Scientific, a 1950’s sci-fi gadget crackling

like a dream of the future. I imagine

beakers and lightning orbs, mechanical

dismantling, esoteric miscellany swathed

in thick cobwebs as nylon over skin, they

jounce on metal tables. To jentaculate

must mean to demystify the world,

Einsteinian scholars peering through scratched

safety goggles at some new creation,

a monster to reveal the human condition

with bolts in its neck just like the stereotype.


But it really means breakfast, the casual,

early mastication of browned toast topped

with grape jelly, hot coffee sipped from

a plain-colored ceramic mug, hasty bites

of a cold granola bar, the crinkled wrapper

folded and torn like a banana peel. Early

mornings prickle with excitement; to

jentaculate at first light’s commencement,

a checkmark on the to-do list and

this is my life now: a morning meal is a

celebration like fireworks heard

from miles away.

Bio – Adam Chabot is the English Department Chair at Kents Hill School, a private, independent high school located in central Maine. His other poetry has been recently featured in Magpie Litrough diamond poetry, The Red Lemon Review, and FEED, among others. He can be found on Twitter @adam_chabot.

Seventy x Seven by Andrea Y Rodriguez

“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?                    Jesus saith unto him, I say


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