bit by bit, little by little
there were times when she bit and
chewed the inside
of her elbow
to spit the bits of flesh
and the blood
on her grandma
but those times were over
almost forgotten
along with the teachings that
her blood is poisoned
because she was conceived with the
wrong woman, meaning
not the one grandmother intended for
her father
But today all those
people were dead. Only father was
alive
He was all right. A hard working
man, busy with life
busy enough not to notice
that his daughter
is constantly sprinkling ashes in
his food and coffee
He’d almost consumed the
contents of
his mother’s urn
there’s just
a bit left
we gotta spend more time together
“I was ten years old,” she said,
her head resting on
my shoulder. “And the flames
covered the damn sky. Though our
neighbor was actually
lucky. Lucky…
Daydreaming as a profession 