© KJ Hannah Greenberg
In a habitable attic, a grey woman looks at albums.
Her candle flicks light and shadow on yesterdays.
Under the circumstances, her arts/crafts training,
Reliable, but not indefatigable, remains lacking.
There’s no point in jumping from soaring garrets.
Memories buoy mistakes, no matter the contexts.
Save for some peregrine others, thrumming over
Most early episodes benefits no set aside ghosts.
Turning pages, she brings to mind adults as babies,
Weighs up whether her grandkids unyoked her soul.
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