someday, ginger
lining jars of blackberry jelly
next to the green beans, beads
of sweat strung above our lips, the
clang of boiled jars over the stove,
seeds stuck between our teeth, berry-
bruised fingernails, kittens nursing
in a box at our feet, every summer
since i was ten, a new litter, his
ghost pokes the sun
drying our pink bicycle seats,
remembering the way his
knees would crack up
& down the stairs, rough
hands blackened by coal
while poking the fire all
through winter
sitting in the strippins, damp
hair snaking, stuck to our backs,
mines beneath our bare legs
weed torn & etched with the
outlines of flat black rocks
after we peeled them off like
artichoke leaves never
minding the heart of our
matters, remembering
that the dust always settled
in the swimming hole after
we left, just like his death
