under rhodedendrons
and the dirty white smell of leaves
my sister and I played
by the side of the house
where my uncles stirred soup
for my grandma
in a dark and yellow room,
on a soft brown couch,
my grandma wore sweatpants
and pastel turtlenecks
the air under
rhodedendrons
is cold and dry,
unstirred
I know there was a playground
a short walk away-
the pavement there was
uneven, and in my memory I am
inexplicably, to be so young, sad
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