My grandma spent her first five years in an orphanage
My grandmas didn’t have grandmas.
I use my tender, silvered fingers to light
Frankincense while my grandma Erika labors to die,
and my smoldering, grieving lungs inhale big.
I use my tender, silvered fingers to light
my first cigarette, outside the neighborhood bar
and my smoldering, grieving lungs inhale big
all so I can look at and breathe close to Josh’s face
My first cigarette, outside the neighborhood bar
breaks my promise to my grandma Barbara Kay,
so I can look at and breathe close to Josh’s face.
I hide away the years I watched her suffocate arduously.
I break my promise to my grandma Barbara Kay
because the air is too light and still, I conjure smoke
I hide away the years I watched her suffocate arduously,
rituals for the sake of connection.
Because the air is too light and still, I conjure smoke,
Frankincense, while my grandma Erika labors to die-
rituals for the sake of connection.
My grandmas didn’t have grandmas.
DANI AUSTIN (they/them) is a queer, disabled, anti-Zionist Jew who loves a good cup of coffee, excellent questions, and basking in the (preferably desert) sun. They have a master’s degree in Sustainable Communities and a background in community organizing and teaching. Dani is currently in the Brooklyn Poets Mentorship program working on their first manuscript. They love their day job of supporting a network of community art-therapy facilitators across the country.
CYNTHIA YATCHMAN is a Seattle based artist and art instructor. She shows extensively in the Pacific Northwest. Past shows have included Seattle University, the Tacoma and Seattle Convention Centers and the Pacific Science Center. Her art is housed in numerous public and private collections.
