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The Bean Masher


I’m nine again

With my sister in our room

Painted yellow with princess stickers

Partially stuck to the wall, some ripped.

I can hear


My Grandmother

As she raves in the kitchen

This time

Different in the way you don’t want different to be.

But it was like that

Time to time


My Grandmother, bestfriend,

Too young to be so old

Erupts in fury

Like the fire cooking on the stove

Because she cannot find the bean masher.

We were supposed to have refried beans that night.


So she threw the pans

And threw them and threw them

And screamed.


My Grandmother, bestfriend, angel

I have never seen so much passion

For the things you love

Even when they aren’t the same.