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Sunday, April 3, 2022

Grain Memory

A wishbone branch falls

From my Grandma Thelma’s oak

For me.




E bends e elderly body down, turns

The wishbone branch into

A cross, places it around my neck.

I am strapped at the Black River’s just shoulder,

Remembering my Grandpa Mose never wore anything

But church.


My purple head begins to feel

Cold while clergy, parched. I inquire for water.

E gives me aqua with every one other accompanied by rice, says to repeat

After em:












Fly from nature. Nature fly






E whispers,


E power of speech begins to hit my chest

Cavity inside rhythm, chaff threshed from grain,



I idea I’d snapped




At dusk,

Gleaming marigolds gathered

Beneath my feet, singing:






Stolen



#Living #Life Choices #Relationships #Family & Ancestors #Social Commentaries #History & Politics #Race & Ethnicity

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