Ana Derby

you can store life in the freezer, she showed me / her frozen wings. / 

i googled the luna moth’s life span / 7 days / exactly how long i spent at my grandma’s house / loving its molding roof / and ribs / dressing dolls from the 70’s / and kissing their shellac lips. / i regret my voice from that trip / stamped thin by the rips / in the green carpet but / my sister was / so easy to scream at and anyway / it's okay / she hears screaming all the time. / 

it goes without saying / neither of our mothers were welcome / in that house / but around that time of year / we all would buck up and spit at them kindly. / i’d sit down at the burnished table and smile as if i wasn't / her spitting image / slightly. / 

the last well behaved girl / was a dog named cricket / named for grandma’s reminiscence / because she couldn't hear the bugs sing / through all those boxes. / after she went we turned to king james / and all his slanted pages / knowing god would never cry / before us / ‘cause crying men are dangerous. /