Grandmama
If she kisses me on both cheeks before her dry lips brush my hair.
If she takes my hand and pulls me to her table and places a cup before me.
If the aroma of chicory mixes with the smell of collards and snuff.
If there’s an open Bible on her lap and a cat under her chair.
If her eyes try to smile while her hands fiddle with her apron.
Labels: Poetry
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