IN THE WINTER OF 85

if
i
spill egg

and
i do
spill egg

on the stove top
while its hot
then
i
smell
my
grans 
kitchen

sunday afternoon bladebone pie
with all the trimmings

gravy with ovals
of uncooperative grease

potatoes roasted 
into golden crowns

and someone 
always fetched 
the folding steps
from the galley kitchen
to 
sit 
down
on

because we were
always 
one 
chair 
short

till granddad died
in the winter of 85

and
it
snowed on the smoke
from
his
ashes

from chasingthedish.blogspot