for Cedar Sigo
The primary fossil of my grandmother is the sunshine they used to seek out her most cancers, the way it slithered by way of her physique like a snake.
The second fossil of my grandmother is the sparrow of her voice, the way it woke me usually,
calling within the evening.
The third fossil of my grandmother is the sampler she saved above her mattress stitched with
Struggling brings us nearer to the Lord.
The fourth fossil of my grandmother is the dream I had the place she was dying; I used to be climbing down her hair as down a rope.
The fifth fossil of my grandmother is her shoulder, the way in which I used to carry it as a lady.
The sixth fossil of my grandmother is the cellphone name I promised however by no means made.
The seventh fossil of my grandmother is the Bible she provided that I by no means bothered to open or
to learn.
The eighth fossil of my grandmother is the lightning that snapped a slashpine the second
she left.
The ninth fossil of my grandmother doesn’t exist.
The tenth fossil doesn’t exist.
The eleventh fossil, misplaced.
The twelfth fossil is me.