Just for a moment
Or an afternoon
I’d like to be ten again
To be sitting in
My grandmother’s kitchen
Feeling uneasy
With the immense serenity
Of her place
Hearing her tell me
I’m a good girl
I’m good
I’m beautiful
I’d believe her
If I could
I wouldn’t think
She’s just saying that
Because she’s my grandmother
And she’s afraid for me
I’d let it come in
All the way to my bones
Like the rich smells
Of espresso and biscotti
Like the comforting weight of pasta