Morning Root

The morning bus howls like an owl

asking the wrong questions.

The woman in front of me could be

my grandmother, that pale sans-slab

of taut bob cupping the head,

those dark-teal pastels of braid and leaf

on her blazer, snow-cone-fuzz of airbrush shading

straight out of the eighties,

but my grandmother is a woman I’ll never see

again, and a woman that stopped seeing the world

years ago. When I get to work, the speakers nestled

in the ceiling caw down that rude truth, sing,

You’ll always be exactly the same as you are now,

and I almost know it to be true

but it makes trying to change more fun,

in the same way that world peace wouldn’t be

achievable for those fighting for it.

Inside me is still this heart plowed down,

this wish to choose those I miss.

I am planting the winter bulbs deep.

I am bracing myself for the next freeze.

“morning root” is a poem I wrote in 2018. It was published in WINK: Writers in the Know, which you can purchase and read online.