How we stumble, are glib
in the face of our fear
when we might show
our own raw heart
I thought my grandmother was a badass
after arm wrestling me for a pack of Swedish fish.
A knows of B
That after grim chemo his hair came back
The doctors reckoned they’d licked his disease
When we finally sprung my father from the hospital
after days spent staring at the cardio unit’s
cinderblock walls the color of nothing
good, his joy could not be contained.