"Ping," goes the microwave oven --
salisbury steak.
Gravy smell wafting in from the kitchen.
Linoleum lozenges, brown,
a herringbone pattern.
Curtains white
printed with a chicken wire design.
Outside, a camellia sways.
From its branches hangs
a fat, yellow-striped spider. May
and June frame a web empty of prey.
Drifting to the bookshelves, my gaze
takes in a photograph, black and white
of my Grandmother in Selma, circa 1965.
I lift a corner of the cellophane
off the meal tray
and walk out into rosy day.
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