hanging sideways at my grandmother’s,
the painting—a bowl of fruit on a table—adorned in gold and red,
something mundane remaining hers.
its orientation unintended by its creators,
the table now suspended strangely above my head,
hanging sideways at my grandmother’s.
an odd choice–surely even she concurs,
a wall too small, so sideways our eyes are led,
something mundane remaining hers.
once just a painting—its meaning now blurs,
a symbol of what was lost and how they fled,
hanging sideways at my grandmother’s.
jarring—an attempt at continuity, but each time we see it her tragedy only recurs,
befitting a grand dining table, not the small kitchen nook at which we are fed,
something mundane remaining hers.
much more than a misaligned painting, a piece from the past—a life she prefers,
a reminder that she too is now a piece in the wrong puzzle—the subtext left unsaid,
hanging sideways at my grandmother’s,
something mundane remaining hers.
Kelly Danielpour is a high school senior at Crossroads School in Santa Monica, California. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of her school's science news publication and the managing editor of its newspaper. Passionate about writing and public health, she spends her days drafting op-eds, running VaxTeen, and exploring her life through poetry. When not at her computer or buried in a book, you can find her discovering off-the-beaten-path spots in Los Angeles with her friends.
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