“You are the butter to my bread, and the breath to my life” ― Julia Child

First of course, Roxane breaks the terrible news: The Butter is saying good-bye.

HUGE, teary thanks to all you brilliant Butter writers, so much butter to our bread. It's been a joy to read and publish your work. And to you readers for loving it all as much as we did.

Raised in a rustic house in the woods of North Carolina by parents who discouraged televisions and other such modern entertainments, Kendra Fortmeyer describes a “gorgeous childhood” complete with a story-telling grandfather who would type the tales she narrated to her dolls.

Now a fiction editor for Broad! Magazine and recipient of an MFA from the University of Texas at Austin, Fortmeyer has established herself as an emerging writer of note, with publications in PANK,

…

The first thing to understand is that we are very beautiful. Deploy your imagery of choice. Reach for gemstones, for edibles: crystal skin, laughing emerald eyes, hair like gently burnished gold. Peaches and cream. The blush of sunrise staining fresh water. You may mix metaphors. You will be forgiven. The second thing to understand is that it means nothing. It means nothing because we have been beautiful for years. And years. Think of the highest…

They told me she did not exist, at first,
that stained glass loves to trick the eye.
The worst thing about the windows is that God rarely 
passes by; the church does not illuminate
with light. Instead, we're tricked into thinking
that this bright-leggèd woman has a tail.