Castera Street

Castera Street

On the floor of Nana’s house

---I was sent there because my mother couldn’t handle

my sister and I--

I played with dolls and gave them voices and names

Nana disappeared into back rooms

or outside to water succulents

the plastic pitcher with flowers on the side

I never followed her unless I needed something to eat

she sometimes made me those cookies
white powdered sugar over crescent moons
Later she forgot my name
called me, Janet, her dead alcoholic daughter
I thought that meant I was bad
but had no one to ask
Sometimes I sat in the avocado tree
watching her love her plants

bending down, dusting them in her sun-hat

I wondered why there were no other girls on that street

I asked Nana-- she said it was time to water the garden.
When I slept there, I stared at the alarm clock with
glowing hands while
Nana drew letters on my back
and I would guess what they were
Sometimes I would confuse X with T
because of the angle.
Nana slept with toilet paper pinned to her hair
and I asked her once
“When you die can I have this?”
holding up a beautiful watch with diamonds for initials
I didn’t know what I was saying
She walked out of the room

Her short heels clack clacking on the hard wood floor