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Poetry Breakfast

Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.

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Ann Haynes

The Other Grandma by Ann Haynes

The Other Grandma
by Ann Haynes

I heard about her, all my life.
Just a devil, bane of my father’s existence,
judgement personified. (He’d married a Jew. So I am a Jew.)
Not the Nice One. The Other Grandmother.
Nana. Nana. Nana.

She died when I was two.
I remember the wake: my older cousins running around, chasing
a tin flying saucer toy. It whirred along the floor, lights flashing,
making such a noise.
They chased it, pushed each other at it. Ignored me,
scared out of my wits. Never saw the like.

The adult men would disappear into a room, come out louder.
I remember very well. They smelled funny.

My father’s face: gleeful.

My mother in all her classy glory,
keeping herself to herself, not saying one damn word.
The Catholic witch was no more.
Ding Dong.

But this photograph, just got it. It’s Nana and me.
I am maybe 8, maybe 9 months. She’s holding me.
I look happy. I’m glad to be there.
She doesn’t seem to think I’m a Jew.
She seems to think I’m a baby girl.
The arms encircling me look just like mine do now: long and lean.

My cousin described her ways, wrote it all down:
One thing I’ve noticed is, when I sit and pay bills,
I do it like Nana.

Ann Haynes is a mom, writer, part time bartender, and office worker. She often wants to say what’s what while on the job

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It Must Be Like This to Be Homeless by Ann Haynes

It Must Be Like This to Be Homeless
by Ann Haynes

I don’t want to be nice anymore:

pleasant.
professional.
kind.
polite.
smiling.
considerate.
seemly.

I want to hunker down in the depths of my self and surprise everyone.

here’s how I’d do it:

that guy at work
says “scoldy” once too often
my kid says “you’re crazy” and means it
a stranger says “calm down”
a bunch of teens laugh at me
I lose my money.

And so.

Noone has any idea how much is at stake.

so here’s what:

I hunker down in the middle of the street

and just scream

leave me alone
leave me alone
leave me alone

Ann Haynes is a mom, writer, part time bartender, and office worker. She often wants to say what’s what while on the job

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