Mara Linden

Gooses

She sifts through the bag: eggs, spinach, tartlets. Tartlets? What a name. A ray of lemony sun makes her squint and she breathes in. It’s nice here on the river. Like a reiteration of a simple program: every day groceries, walk by the river, breathe in the sun, photograph the geese. Gooses, she says. Goose-gooses. Geese sounds silly.