responsive-lightbox domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/sundre5/ducts.sundresspublications.com/content/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6114Bandaging My grandmother rolls *\u00a0 *\u00a0 *<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n Orange Thumb My father crouches in the packed soil, to paint brushstrokes that curled orange ridges still crusted with soil. to stop rabbits. The carrot is small\u2014short of an index finger, Bandaging My grandmother rolls the hem of her shirt as she would a piece of lefse, curling it into a tight cylinder, exposing her mole-dotted stomach, a pale, wrinkled mound, skin hanging in loose piles collected at her waist. My mother wears rubber gloves as she pulls away a moistened strip of pus-yellowed bandage like […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2875","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2875","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2875"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2875\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2905,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2875\/revisions\/2905"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2875"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2875"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2875"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nthe hem of her shirt
\nas she would a piece of lefse,
\ncurling it into a tight cylinder,
\nexposing her mole-dotted stomach,
\na pale, wrinkled mound,
\nskin hanging in loose piles
\ncollected at her waist.
\nMy mother wears rubber gloves
\nas she pulls away a moistened strip
\nof pus-yellowed bandage
\nlike old wallpaper steamed
\nloose by the heat of gestating cells,
\npiping a cleaning solution
\nover the bloodied gouge.
\nThe incision seems etched in the center,
\nedges gray with healthy tissue
\nspreading to cover smooth, pink flesh.
\nShe pats it dry with a towel,
\nmy grandmother wincing
\nat the dry scratch of gauze \u2013
\nfitted, cut, pressed, thin and white
\nlike strands of her hair
\nwoven into a lattice. When my mother
\nplaces a new bandage, she smoothes
\nthe corners, pressing ridged fabric
\nflush to seal the fresh dressing.
\nAnd after she\u2019s finished,
\nmy mother leaves her hand
\non the rising and falling belly, leaning forward
\nas though she might lay her head
\nin the space between wound and navel,
\na gentle press of the ear, listening
\nto sounds of her home.<\/p>\n
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nhis white tennis shoes streaked black,
\nas though the earth had reached up<\/p>\n
\nfrom the soles and across the laces.
\nHe pulls out a carrot, the dirt cracking
\nand caving in as the mouth emerges\u2014<\/p>\n
\nHis first garden, the plot bordered by bricks,
\ntilled into parallel rows, fenced with thin wire<\/p>\n
\nHe\u2019d coaxed out some life already,
\nrounded red tomatoes
\nstamped with bottom rot, golf ball onions,
\neven slender green beans, stalks bent down
\nlike winter trees heavy with snow,
\njust as my father bends over them
\nin the winter of his life, arms weighted
\nwith the tilling, the planting, the watering.<\/p>\n
\njust as wide, but still he brings it in the house,
\nrinses the clay-coated ribs, runs a thumb-plow
\nthrough the rows. He pokes at it gently,
\nrolling the stubby root along the hills of his palm.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"