All I Remember is Tennessee

-for Radiann

I am not ready to write this,

not ready for this part of me to go.

It is not time, no......

it is not time to allow destiny

to rummage through our drawers,

yours, the ones as cluttered

as those we used to share

as children, the waterfall dressers

split: highboy in mom's room

the vanity in ours covered

in layers of dust and hairbrushes,

filled to the brim with last year's

horned rim rhinestone studded

eyeglasses, mom's top drawer

had naughty underthings and silk gloves,

certainly the place where babies come from.

How did we all fit in there?

Why can't we just stay in there,

fermenting and coalescing,

looking out to see someone else's hands

reaching in, pushing through

trying to find the reflections

where we knelt to put

our eyebrows on.