Five years later
opening the cupboard that held
glasses and mugs and, on the top shelf
I could barely reach standing on the counter,
my great uncle's dentures,
my mom sees those bottles
I collected off my great grandmother's farm.
Blue bottles with the dirt
never quite washed off
found behind the house falling down
around cows that walked
where the porch once stretched.
They had been pushed to the back,
out of reach, forgotten
until this Tuesday
as her hand brushes one
knuckles grazing the brand name.
She will remember me.

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