by Taylor Frost<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My great-grandmother is lucid
\nfor the first time in days.
\nShe is nestled in her chair in the living room,
\nmy mother by her side, feeding her
\npopcorn from a cupped palm, dropping
\nit into her bird-like mouth
\npiece by piece.<\/p>\n
She looks at my mother, \u201cI\u2019m ready,\u201d
\nshe whispers. \u201cDress me in a long purple skirt
\nand push me from the window
\nso that I can finally fly, fly, fly.\u201d
\nMy mother begins to cry,
\nthey both turn their heads,
\nlook at me.<\/p>\n
I say nothing,
\nbut I wonder what it must be like to look forward
\nand see nothing but light.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Taylor Frost is a poet located in Central Virginia, where she spends time with her young son, reading, drinking iced coffee, and exploring. She received her Bachelor\u2019s in English from Hollins University. She has been previously published in Whurk Magazine, Artemis Journal, <\/em>and Gravel<\/em>.<\/p>\n
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