after her mastectomy, my grandmother let me sleep on her breast inserts– they smelled like silicone and cookies– love’s complicated

terrowfully*–imagining your injury–repeating no no no this was her way this is not the only way to love *(terror + sorrow+fully)

turning off lights leaving my shoes by the door eating what I take and brushing my crumbs into the sink

Remembering Jean no-bake cookies cooling in the kitchen an accordion in the garage fireflies and a strawberry patch between

Have you ever noticed how signs point out the obvious? “Lane ends.” Yet no one says to them, “Yeah. Duh.”

Did I tell you I brought the wrong cat home from the vet? Second-guessed myself until they called me back.

The sun falls down touching this tree that tree but not that tree playing favorites in a lullaby of light

The happy red tram climbed a blue sky and a green mountain where the children fed chipmunks peanuts by hand.

This is how they wrote, Eudora, Flannery, Tillie, Tracy– that’s right. I used their first names– from their front porches.