E. Lee White "Daughter's Brooch"
You began buying fat grapes from the corner;
Dry stemmed, brown and dead, still six hundred yen
And peels unlike any other you’ve eaten before
Not the skinny red seedless balloons–
Sugar water behind wax
From your America fridge,
These are fat woman grapes,
You remember this….
The violet brooch rested in the dim light
On the side of your nightstand, a remembrance
Of a family fastened together
By a paltry girl who glued violet bead by violet bead,
The language between both you and her
A quiet passing of hands sharing fruit.