Ruby, of Carolina descent,
would hand
us ham
biscuits through the window
as we painted
her house.
she was as plump as one might
expect with
southern cooking.
i can see her pink hand now,
extended
past the screen
and glass,
cheerful to a fault.
and when she died, he had
a flat stone
put in the ground
in front of the house.
capturing her smile with
her name
inscribed, to which
we were always careful
to walk around.
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