Per Dr. Hue’s texted instructions
I dig two giant beets 
from his illegal garden.
The third day cresent of new moon
hangs in the westren sky
when I put my hands to soil
and pull up the taproots.
I carry them like babies
to his efficent kitchen,
slice them tenderly,
the stain on my hands 
darker than blood

The end of this month
is another notch
in the belt of my life.
My 93 year old sister, Helen
came home from her spring
visit to Rome with a 75 year old
boyfriend from Columbia.
I’ve moved across the parking lot 
from her condo to Dr. Hue’s.
How long will this last?
I’m unsettled, displaced.

With skill I place the beets
in a cast iron skillet, sautee
them in olive oil with minced
garlic and oregano, of course.
Tough I am alone at my meal
I am pleased with its earthy taste