Brittney Cleark

Your shoes sssshed

Saturday mornings spent
clenching my sleep.

Pearls drizzled across your chest
in their post service fray,

ears sorta sag under the weight
of zirconium jewel,

a gown with
sentimental seams

from ankle to knee
sometimes a run,

and a bonnet of bluish
curls close to your grandma gruff

ten children bore
a sway in your hips

know how to move while
the good reverend Green croons.