Mom says
when she and John 
would call ahead 
to let you know they're
coming to pick you up 
take you on your errands

that you'd stall

steep the moment
soak it, scan all corners 
of house to search for foot cream
bone cushions, warm stockings
inner soles.

You stall, say 
Wait!   I have to get    my shoes   out 
get my    feet    together.

Mom's only priority 
when you pass
is finding the perfect Footies
for your transmigration.

Clouds are not cushion enough 
for a woman who's walked 92
years, birthed twins carried 54 
grandchildren in arms 
and cooked some- 20,000 meals
and standing?

Bertha!
You deserve walking shoes 
peacock wings and cotton, purple
flowers, a peaceful rainstorm
poetry and laughter at your wake.

You deserve to be sent home 
proper.

List
for my grandmother 

Wrigley's chewing gum 
FolgerÕs, butterscotch
her peppermint wrappers 

Blue Grass cologne 
caught lifelong 
in quilts, thread, her house coats

mom's wedding dress, the blue Singer 
sewing machine, its pedal
the garden

lilac bush, cedar
grapevine fence
the red maple tree grandpa planted

rose water , a lock of her hair
a pink curler 
or quilt corner

Gonesh No. 5 or 8
Earth, something
from her jewelry box

a lone blue bird feather 
Jackie Wilson record
jigsaw piece

in her canning jars we'd trap
butterflies, ladybugs, one's that light
now I keep sage bundles in her teapot

the backyard water well, fireworks 
the green bucket for picking beans
her  smooth face, shaded by her cotton red visor

Sunday dinner, Buddha, the smoke rolling 
from cone incense like volcanic mountains
the green lantern and brush of her hand down the banister

holding her index finger 
as we'd walk 
the water bill to the mailbox

Odella Speaks

8 ) my granddaughter's reflection: the break of scarlet fever in baking soda bath 7) the vein wrinkle in my hands: her forty five degree spine washed in locust song and holy water 6) when I begin to paint my nails pink plant pansies around the porch: my offspring know     by gut and blood passed down I'm leaving 5) the yard's long lavender back 4) green stream  of cricket orchestra ushering white  nights over  my ears 3) the nocturnal train comes and goes, I grow  tired of living 2) the alley's gutter: a collection plate of rain smell 1) (the rattle of autumn  leaves, wind the rattle grows  louder lonelier when a matriarch  turns angel   on you)

Folade Mondisa Speaks-Love