soft crumbs of salted crackers peppered
across the wooden surface, where grandmother
sits at the table. red nails
grip the glossy flesh of the gala and she raises it to her lips.
I can smell the wet saltiness of the softened saltine,
she swallows – crepe skin undulates as she moves. grandmother
stands at the apple tree, scarlet gems hanging,
swaying in Alabama summers, crooked feet in the feathery grass
mash the spoiled fruit into the clay. grandmother
lays in the bed, wisps of white curl on the sheet
and crimson nails nestle in the linen – apple moons curdle
on paper and crumbs soak in the unfermented wine.