My grandmother’s hands twitching,
Neglected
Winds, they anticipate interaction
The elected
Words they carry
Like Vericose, Pulmonary
She’s scared, these
Hours... they mean more presently
Not patty cake or finger paint
But moons of Jupiter, Saints
Relax, the next breath awaits
I miss your Angel Food Cake
And my bare feet in your creek
And scooping crawddaddies