So, what else is new? A narrow
Balcony, two persons cannot sit.
Grandma has the first choice, Grandpa.
stays behind, leaning above the newspaper.
Always work with her hands, my mother
picks berries in the garden shade,
some berries fall on her palms,
some berries are collected by squirrels.
Father, that’s another word fading now,
not heard any more; words can do that,
the windows of the opposite
buildings are framed in red brick.
The blue-ribbon walks on the pavement
smile hovers on her face,
her lover sits unmindfully on the
pile of stones by the roadside.
how to keep track of the days, nights,
each one shining, each one alone,
each one then gone.
the house is quiet because it has to be.
