old recipes

i have hands that need to be worried
knitted brows and empty eyed needles
clicking and clacking in time
with a grandmother’s song

she told me all her stories once
from a field of corn and desperation

broken backs and clattered crows
stealing all the shiny bits

i made a choker of her words
red silk knots and sour drops
on the tongue of overdrawn wisdom

she knew everything about me
before i was born

and nothing of the taste
of redemption





A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

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