Savannah Sipple 

                                             ~

Granny Sonnet


Hand-in-hand we used to pick 
leaves off trees and walk barefoot 
in the garden, wet dirt hugging our toes.
I would have purple stained hands
and arms for weeks after picking blackberries
to make jam.  Now you’ve got wrinkle-soft
skin, the kind that glides over my shoulders
when you hug me. I’ve got calluses on my 

hands, cracks on my knuckles brought on 
from cold weather, from neglect. I will call 
you tomorrow on your birthday and wish
I could be there to cook for you, 
to make you feel young because I feel old
like blackberries too ripe for the picking. 

                                                        ~


Savannah Sipple is a poet, editor, and educator from Beattyville, Ky., whose work has been featured in Now & Then, The Louisville Review, New Southerner, Appalachian Heritage, and Deep South Magazine. She is a frequent contributor to Still: The Journal.


                                                        ~ 

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