When I tuck my hands into the wool fingerless gloves, close them into fists, then open them again to the worldWhen I drive to CVS to pick up my dad’s antibiotics, for healing the stitchesUnder a puffy bandage on his cheek When I walk in the biting 36 degrees, come inside with a crimson face, and find that the frost has expelled the damp muck from my mindWhen I taste the bitterness of a cappuccino and the softness of Quiche LorraineWhen I stir ground turkey in the skillet pan, add southwest taco mix, And fix a plate of it for my motherWhen I encourage my friend to share her singing, because singing is givingWhen I string gold, red, and azure beads onto a necklace to wear into townAnd at night, when I soak in the shower under the pelting hot waterthinking, “Thank you, thank you.”————————————–Claire Kenny called us from Philadelphia, PA.voicemailpoems.org/submit/facebook.com/voicemailpoemsx.com/voicemailpoemsbsky.app/profile/voicemailpoems.bsky.socialinstagram.com/voicemailpoems