Friday, May 6, 2011

nothing yet

by now
you patented the smile on my lips,
and maybe even my hips.
A closet full of make-up,
learning colors
downstairs, Grandpa in the darkroom. (while the fan swayed its arms,
your orchid watched.)

Counting backwards, she makes room for us all--
unveils the evening: a scrabble board.
we learn colors
her chest full of scarves.

Careful careful hands held us
enveloped into a charmed dance
of the softest quiet beauty within my Grandmother's hands.

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