Page 12 - Savoring

Christine Stewart-Nuñez
DIANA DECIDING
Wonder Woman exiles herself from herself, swaps utopia for America, her Amazon sisters for D.C.’s jungle as if exchanging peace for love’s duty would be enough.
Closing her steno pad at five, Diana contemplates cuisine—not the breakroom’s carousel of lime JELL-O with whipped cream, pineapple, and carrot shavings—
spinach sautéed in olive oil, quinoa-
pilaf with Turkish apricots. Superfood. Finally home, glasses off, hair
ponytailed, sweatpants donned, she slices
through an acorn squash like it’s cream cheese. As she juliennes a jalapeño, she needs no magic bracelet; a lasso won’t quicken the task. She admires the cut’s
soft discernment. When her man’s in trouble, Wonder Woman busts him out; slaps,
slugs, strikes—for true love, what does it matter if she breaks a nail or three? And
still, her man doesn’t see her. With him safe watching television, Diana’s free for her
other life—pummeling bad guys with Superman, Captain America. They love her feminine
touch. But comics can wait. Tonight, she skims fingertips across the dusty wine
rack, chooses a cab, Opus One,
’85, and pulls out the company—
crème brûlée—from the fridge. Under the streetlight constellations, she sits on her balcony
listening to the city’s symphony of honks,
pops, whines, the occasional sirens
pulsing through Diana’s veins like a heartbeat.
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