In the Early Summer,
I drink sticky gold sunshine and nibble velvet pink roses
and breathe the air of Saturday mornings:
Saturday mornings when I wake up to a tangle of sheets
clock hands at 7:30
window draped in sleeves of sun and the brush of a breeze

You would think that versatility would be appreciated. 
Small forks and spoons for dessert, big ones for entrees. 
There’s a knife equipped for steak, butter, and cheese. 
The amount of money, plastic, and materials used for cutlery is astonishing.

A blooming handful of violet flowers,
The beautiful journey of being loved and lost.
A body, fragile and breakable, yet as light and magnificent as a blossomed plant.
Weeping and eroding as time progresses to the end, 

I’m back home for Chinese New Year’s and I want to know what it was like for my great-grandmother when she was little.