Grampie

In the garden, I am

the number one helper

granddaughter/grandson—

he’s the vegetable veteran,

hands blending into the soil.

My fingers clumsy

and pale, the onion bulb to

his roots. He follows,

instructing and inspecting

with as many “that a girls”

as beans in my bucket;

the weight driving the handle

deeper into my palm.

When he opens a pea pod,

with hands that will never be clean,

I don’t hesitate.

“Everyone eats dirt in their

lives. It’s good for you.”

z11

Daniel

The most limpid love I’ve ever been able
was wasted at twelve years old.
I held your hand once during Mass,
but every other interaction
has been me making a fool
of myself. I imagined you
blameless these past twenty years–
I cried when you never returned.

A Valentine remembered, small compliments recorded.
‘Just maybe he did’ always held in my heart.

Turns out, I was wrong and should never
have asked. There was never a chance
you liked me back then and you’re still
too considerate to say.

z9 (2)