Minor Shelter

In his sad eyes
body that would wrap around mine like
a question mark at night,
stories of a grandfather who
raised rabbits
and how they ate them at Easter
in some traditional Italian sauce,
stories of his sons, his ex-wife, his losing about
half of his body weight,
in our tromping around Richmond
going to the edge of the river for
deep dish pizza and Irish cider,
In hours of watching
ridiculous Chevy Chase Vacation DVDs and
how he gave me a tiny DVD player
so that I could have company at night,
alone in my bed,
In those places
he wouldn’t let me near
and I wanted, yearned to soothe,
there was,
nonetheless,
shelter and a budding,
reminding me that I am more
than the outer shell I wear
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2 thoughts on “Minor Shelter

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