She holds cancer between her gnarled knuckles
and smoke between her teeth.
Her tongue slips on week late birthday cards, and the five dollar bill that she generously donated to the local abc store instead.
She says she can't find her own spirit anymore,
so she buys others' instead.
Good intentions,
she always had them.
Standing at the corner of the family gathering,
staring at faces she was supposed to know.
But the wine had taken their names off her tongue.
Good intentions,
gift cards for everyone.