like holding her cloth napkin
could make a difference
monet’s splash of color on this cotton square
bleeds memories into my heart…

the nasturtiums in her postage stamp garden
pot roast on sundays, looking up at her sheepishly
after dripping stains on her table cloth, again

like holding this piece of fabric,
held so many times at her table
could melt me away from here
bring me back

to the comfort of life when it was new
to the safety of a grandmother’s garden
playing scrabble with her on tuesdays
watching fog swim past her plate glass window

no mortgage or threat of foreclosure
no clients or projects aching their demands in my head
no marriage to reconcile or find
no health issues or the kinds of hurts that surely come with years

just free falling at that maiden age
drudgery hadn’t set in yet.

like holding this piece of her
could bring me back to her
make this tedium of bills and chores and worries melt away
make life a monet garden

like holding this napkin of feather-tipped colors
could bring me
back to life.

this poem won honorable mention for free-form poetry at the San Mateo County Fair, 2014.

Pollination, courtesy of William Solis

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