the grocery list needed tending to

a task that always keeps my grandmother busy

her familiar cursive writing neatly scrawling onto the page


she looks up at me and asks

“is there anything else?”


and my mind spirals



and it’s as if i’m in a confessional

on my knees and burning with guilt

there is an entire world of wrong answers to that question

i’m non-binary

and you don’t know that

i’m gay

and you don’t know that

i drink

i smoke weed

i drive too fast

i’m getting more tattoos that you hate

i have sinned and sinned and sinned

forgive me


i’m hiding this all from you


but instead

i sit aflame

and i smile

looking back at her

and say

“i think we’re out of milk”