she said to me in the nursing home,
the first word I'd heard from her
in forever. If she could have, then,
she would have grabbed my hands from the
static darkness of her winter,
her eyes wild and electric
like lightning seeking a wire.
The following week, miles away,
Gram's word connected at last
and the jolt struck the test
from my shaken fingers and
cracked open my hand
like the soft egg
of my body.
Angela Papalas lives in Chicago, Illinois, with her husband, her retriever, and three young sons. A graphic designer and honors graduate of Northwestern University, she's been working seriously on her poetry since Nov. 2006, and this is her first published poem! She blogs at moxie.