Easter

With the scent of spring onions,
With the pastel flash of chocolate eggs,
Comes the memory of a small church
One Easter, decades ago, with just my grandmother.
A pale Easter dress, my vacation restlessness,
Dew on the duplex yard, damp tights
A mother who insisted her daughter share
Her basket of candy (which vanished during the service,
Like a rabbit among the pews).

Spring is born in the hairdressers, on tomato vines,
In the fur of a glass-eyed rabbit, a kitten purse.
Trellis inside the church, trellis wallpaper at the salon,
Trellis in the backyard
Training the vine of memories:
The generous girl
The disappearing candy
My grandmother
Born again and again
In the smell of spring onions.