to disappear

2022 9th - 12th Grade Poetry Winner

my grandmother has worn the same perfume all her life; she envelops her skin in apricots
languished by the summer sun until wrinkled, like her fingers when i help her from the
tub, careful not to let her slip; one slip and she might just
Shatter—her memories locked in a fragile colosseum of bone
so i lay the bedsheet on her body like one touches the
untouchable - stroke a butterfly’s wings and you'll see what i mean
crawl into her brain and watch the ashes of anamnesis spill
out onto the bathroom floor, try to pick them up but
they’ll keep falling through the gaps of your
virgin hands, watch her dissipate
till she is nothing but dust,
and apricots in the
air.