Sister in the Kitchen sifts
flour over the city: the hills
of butter bumps and sugar clods,
mounds of diapers by the dryer, clippings – toenail
arcs and callous parings: toughened skin collecting
in the desk drawer where she sweeps the trim.
“ Snow drifts, ”
her oldest child notes,
“ to sink our bodies into. ” “Climb,”
her mother corrects, “climb and spread your wings.”