attention to the syntax of grandfathers

your trifles escape catalog

and index,

their sparkle indefinite:

the brittle veins of fallen fire-leaves—

the catharsis of cold water down your spine—

the rupturings of twigs beneath heavy footsteps—

the throaty pulsation of catching your breath—

the worlds between your thick digits—

your cardiac;

your coronary;

the arteries of the hospital beeping and pulsing together,

the bassline of your singing. you never

sing, I never hear you sing, but today—

at the outer rings of breath and solitude;

the outer rings of cells and nuclei;

« an apostrophe to a best friend, or a relic of one

bananas and milk »