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yesterday

Carina Solis

it was only yesterday.
little silver bells
chiming sweet song
from the vintage victrola radio.
grandma singing Nat King Cole
and baking powder bread,
her Belizean sway
mingling with American supermarkets.
the syrupy molasses,
grated spicy nutmeg,
brittle walnuts,
and her little can of lard
mixed in her Marilyn Monroe bowl
and shaped by my tiny hands
into moons.
the smell of a golden bake
is so lovely.
i take a bite and so does she:
a crisp cinnamon shell
and cloudy inside.
winter explodes
in my pink mouth
and grandma smiles.

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