Photo by Kikomo.P Imagery
Photo by Kikomo.P Imagery

Semira Truth Garrett is the author ofThe Bare Backside written for the artists and thinkers “who are not afraid to activate their canvases with the water colors created from the bare backsides of our tears.”


I am from a stomach, a story to explain my appetite.

I am usually seen in a kitchen taking the last of the cookies. I am a cookie, made with two types of sugar. I come from pure cane, pasteurized with brown dye. I am from chocolate milk, the main ingredient, in the blackest cookie. I come from an unidentified seed, or soil. Where we snatch up water. I come from the tap water my momma told me to drink when I dunked my appetite too far deep in the ice mountain river. I come from the 2.99 she paid for the water.

I am from ramen noodles while watching cooking shows. Show me gourmet, yet guap too low for guac. I am from the gourmet popcorn, a Garrett, yet haven’t seen royalty, yet 16, yet queen of common breakfast food. I am from the vanilla extract I forgot to put in the pancake that never tasted like daddies: a dish of love and confusion, a dish of knowing destiny will take me back home after weekend is over.

I am from the always-on-time Sundays, where I know time is up. I come from Sunday dinners, back to ramen noodles, back to Sunday dinners, back to regretting my appetite which has made me sick, again. I am from belly ache: appetite too big for the stomach I came from.

They say your stomach is as big as your fist.