My order is the next to be delivered.
Luscious milk to pour in white ceramic
Pretzel twists to make a small boy laugh
Eggs to bubble-boil warm, hard, perfect
Clementines that nestle in my hand.
Pickle jars and black bean cans and noodles
That will rattle in their boxes as I stack
Them on the shelves, secure in this week’s dinners
Vegetables that crowd both crisper drawers.
It’s easy to forget that grace abounds.
But now I cross the sun-swept tiles and I marvel
At all this kind man brings me
As he mounts the stairs.
Kimberly G. Jackson studied literature at Yale and New York University, but now reads and writes poetry just for the love of it.
She lives in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts.