Stippled Skin (for Dziadek)

Stippled Skin (for Dziadek)

White light dripping off the

concrete porch steps, burning my scratched

knees, sunshine spit through glass on the front door

and sliced into tiny

multicolored ribbons.

I’m in the stiff shirt Mom bought from

the boy’s section because I wanted to wear the

hundreds of smiling octopi floating in a

cotton sea.

 

And there’s you,

sky-milk spattered across your stippled skin,

hiding in the creases near your eyes.

I’m running the pink plastic comb through your

silver curls.