if you met my family you would understand
Published in Sigma Tau Delta's Rectangle, 2023, page 14
By Grace Cram
tarnished key,
slice of lime,
cigarette discarded
on the curb, by the gutter
for me to make sense of
a tantalizing amalgamation—
an appealing alternative—
to replaying dad’s phone call over and over. . . .
an ant is making circles on the white tile floor
next to dad’s foot
i watch it—
it is the most interesting thing in the world.
more interesting than
the doctor speaking through
the tinny iPhone speaker
about grandpa’s health.
it’s storming outside, but it’s okay
i have built my life amid this swirling white chaos.
silent drive through the snow
but the headlights are not strong enough
to cast light on all of our problems.
driving and driving and driving on these icy roads
between the dashes on the freeway
between the lines i draw between us.
the summer melted away your morals,
unspoken baggage and unextended apologies
tangled in the backseat. not one to pry,
i shove the suitcases further out of sight
and just laugh at your old jokes instead.