Grandma had to steady her dangling wrist. It's a kick, Erm, she wheezed. Red stained her yellow teeth. From her kitchen, Grandma studied the sky's gray sheets fold and fold. It's Sunday forever, forever July.
Morning is a girl's dress floating over houses, trees.
I tie my own sweet peas to chicken wire, lean forward to water them and enter a room the color of hospital broth. I grew these for you. Let me fill your cup. Open your eyes.