On Mother’s Blue Hat

High out of reach / netted lacquer cherries tremble

and shine /  inviting the bees, her perfect children / not us

so waspish and barking / busy with accident — thinking

the pearls were pop-beads and now they’re all over the floor

we try on her tall shoes / tiny oceans rock in the glass heels

inside minuscule oysters spin layers of nacre / glimmering

and breakable / it’s not forgiveness if we go by in a blur

restless continents sidle to her knee / lay our heads in her lap

we bad dogs dig up bones in the orchard / set them on fire

published in Mom Egg Review