Milly

My nana is just like me 

with delicate bones and lanky legs 

that angered the boys 

when she beat them in races.

Recognizable, many say,

are the resemblance 

of our bodies 

and the coastlines 

of our features.

I never liked my nose. 

Tides of fondness and disgust 

rush in and out, 

but Millie’s nose 

is beautiful so

I guess I’m

 anchored 

on a liking for mine.

Milly signs cards consistent 

as Superior's moody waves.

Millie or Milly?

This remains a mystery.

But I prefer Milly

when she signs 

her loopy “y.”

Milly spends hours 

docked in slow prayer,

floating her fragile fingers 

across rosary beads.

Her unwavering love 

steady as the approaching freights.

Her pansies bloom in June despite 

Duluth’s frigid winter,

but Milly and I favor 

the burnt leaves of autumn.

When she is favorable

Superior offers a cool breeze 

like a reward

for the months of humidity.

Staring into the mirror, 

Milly’s eyes reflect 

a blue so clear 

they make 

Superior's cold heart 

jealous.