Where I’m From
December 30, 2022
I am from cigarette smoke,
from box dye and hand-me-down clothes.
I am from dog wood trees.
(Bright white, glistening flowers, smelling bitter.)
I am from the small family kitchen,
full of laughter
whose smell I still remember.
I am from the children running in the backyard,
from swingset hinges squeaking.
I am from the I know it best adults and the I know everything kids.
I’m from family we no longer talk to, the ones I still remember.
I’m from vegan chillie and squash, homemade potatoes and sweet tea.
From the chest full of old pictures, spilling with memories.
I am from those moments –
Pictures taken before we grew –