Grandma’s Copper Bottom Pan
I’m standing over my connection
Stirring melted marshmallows and butter
Making food for someone else.
The one thing of mine that’s a connection to the past
Of horse-theives and tangled branches.
We both stood over this pan, I’m sure.
Stirring up truths, looking for our base, past what’s there,
Watching it get covered again.
Me and Grandma,
I’ve got her thoughts because I use her stuff.