My grandmother dreams of the ocean
and chooses to waste her time
with clementine cut flowers and crossword puzzles,
brow thin and furrowed.

My grandmother keeps a telescope by the glass door,
but the trees are growing into her view of the water
and the bird feeder needs refilling – squirrels again.

My grandmother fills up cavities with sugar water
hummingbird food.

My grandmother laughs like the moon
and the Mississippi River. M I double S I double S I double P I,
she taught me to spell and read:
words are genetic.

She sells seashells by the seashore
Toy boat toy boat toy boat
When we drive to the zoo I help her read the street signs

And we always take the same path.
There’s a plate with my name on it
below the dancing feet of a painted pony,
bears and otters and elephants, oh my.
Aquarium, aquarium, sandpipers sing
to the snakes.
To the eagles, now, then across the bridge,
puddle-hopping.
Around the corral on the back of a soulful nag

We still hold hands when we cross parking lots.