i have been sitting around

this tiny table

far 

too long…

gathering glares from you 

Nannie

every time i breathe

puddles of tissues gather

 around my feet

gather

moss which i track through 

sanctuaries…

of kitchens 

where my brother’s hand

curls around peanut brittle smells

every time you open 

your  refrigerator door

a perfect metaphor

you could never quite find a way

to let go 

of

could you?

it was like

you wanted us all 

to remember

the day 

you gave us crayons 

and asked us to color our hands

so you could put his on the refrigerator

and mine 

in your garbage of glares

next to the tissues

gathering moss

check it out

cuz this is where

i toss

your crayons

cuz im all grown up 

and i 

choose 

my own metaphors

now