Sweet Treats—August 2016

Voice recording of author reciting poem.

When I think of Astor, I think a tornado– 

cotton balls and sprinkles. And though 

I never really looked at her, 

I can tell she is soft. Kind. And when I rub 

ears red against tile floor, melting into dirt,

I can hear her talk. To me.

About sugar mostly and how she desperately 

wants a dress made from ribbons. 

So, I throw what I can—blades of grass,

saltwater taffy, and bottle caps.

I listen for them to hit the bottom.

I listen for her to laugh.