God I thank you for cornbread soaked in milk
\neaten directly from the pan; it\u2019s not a thing
\na lot of people understand, but it\u2019s a thing
\nmy grandma did and I do too.
\nShe was from Arkansas, that\u2019s all I know
\nbecause I never asked. I went outside to play instead;
\nI knew the trees. I knew the grass.
\nBack then, adults were merely artifacts
\nnot paths<\/p>\n
to a time before cornbread.
\nA time before corn.
\nWhen women\u2019s hands worked side by side by side
\nthe wrinkled and the young weaving baskets,
\nscraping leather, braiding rope.
\nWe talked the day into the night
\ntrading stories, singing poems. Back then
\nI would have known her, would have been her.
\nShe would have lived with us instead of alone
\nwith her novels and a piano<\/p>\n
she no longer played. Wherever she is now:
\nParadise or born again in the trees where we
\nspread her ashes, please let her know this
\npiece of her yet lives, one small thing
\nI understand: the particular pleasure
\nof cold milk and rough crumbs gone soft
\nbut holding shape upon the tongue.
\nIt\u2019s a poem I can eat and pretend
\nmy mouth is her mouth,
\nworld without end.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
God I thank you for cornbread soaked in milk eaten directly from the pan; it\u2019s not a thing a lot of people understand, but it\u2019s a thing my grandma did and I do too. She was from Arkansas, that\u2019s all I know because I never asked. I went outside to play instead; I knew the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":85,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"issue":[8],"coauthors":[],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n