I watched her pull the stepstool
from under the sink. Her slippers
scaled each seven-inch stair
her fingertips barely reached
the top shelf her hand gripped
the wine glass and the motion
steadied her somehow.
She hovered like
a Christmas tree topper above
her kitchen where coasters sat
politely on each table and fresh
hydrangeas filled the vase
on the windowsill and I thought
that I would stand on countertops
and dining chairs before I ever
purchased a stepstool.
