She is overcast on a Sunday who doesn’t ask
for much, she is the root of an obliterated blueberry bush
untouched and planning her come back
she is the warmth of summer sand you feel
then forget, and feel again
people put poison in her ears
she still listens, when it hurts
she stuffs 20 rosemary sprigs into raw chicken
because she knows goodness is inside-
out
people put poison in her ears, she says
she loves dragonflies
because they remind her of Nan,
and I’m willing to bet,
because they listen
I remember when I made her laugh laugh
and the walls thanked me
I remember keeping rosemary between gum and lip
and sharing buttered toast
I remember bluet damselflies hovering
on the lake.