November 24th, 8:08 a.m.–
A bird warbles in the pecan tree outside my childhood bedroom window.
I laugh because its feathers remind me of the colors in my uncle’s beard.
November 24th, 11:23 a.m.–
The storm in my brother’s eyes is blue. My sister’s eyes are like tea colored in sunlight. They will never understand how beautiful & haunting this truly is.
November 24th, 2:02 p.m.–
My Nana smells like cinnamon & safety. I ask her to stop time with me: we take a picture I intended to share but I’m selfish & decide to keep it for myself instead.
November 24th, 2:18 p.m.–
My mama’s sweet potatoes should have their own religion. She’s as radiant as a painting of a saint. We all need sunglasses.
November 24th, 3:00 p.m.–
Daddy reminds me where I get my sense of humor. Nobody knows if our stomachs hurt from all the food or laughter. Either way, we’re blessed.
November 24th, 5:57 p.m.–
Homecoming is neither prayer nor penance.
November 24th, 9:04 p.m.–
Our hearts beat softly.
Poem 24 of 30