At my grandmother’s place
I dreamed in a pink canopy bed
under a heavy wool crazy quilt
pieced by her grandmother
and embroidered with hope
the initials of family women
Still now the quilt is stashed
in my hope chest as I wrap
dreams around a girl answering
to the the name of my mother
my grandmother and her mother
and hers and I hope against hope
Today is the 11th birthday of the runaway sentence!
Of course time is weird so that seems like a long/short time
and it seems we’ve lost a year and are working on another
and anyone reading this can tell my writing patterns
have certainly changed and not for the better but still I hope
and dream and have some ideas about changing this place around
so watch for that in the coming year and thank you,
gentle readers, for persisting. Peace and love.
