Savannah Lee

-Slate sidewalks, broken, weeds pushing through
-The space between the mountain laurel bushes and the front of our house
-Two little trenches in the back yard, grassed in
-Tomatoes in the neighbor's garden, sun-hot
-Watching that kitten trying to figure out what we were doing and whether it could trust us
-The local bridge, metal-green on dark clouds
-The box my dead cat was returned to us in, wrapped in her bandages
-Pulling my friend's hair because she was happy for me
-They brought my grandmother out in a wheelchair
-Not signing up for that
-Sitting in that chair outside the room where they were dancing
-Purple plastic rosary, told that it was gold
-My first midwestern highway (straight and flat)
-Train tracks with him at midnight
-Ex-friend in the doorway
-"They're really going to think we're sleeping together"
-Told I would have burned because of my eyes.