![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I have to assume it became detached from a nearby funeral wreath and blew over in the steady June wind, but the odds don’t seem right, especially considering the man who had been interred below 30 days prior. ![]() I stare at it and stare at it, like I’m expecting it to grow a mouth and answer me. I bend down and pick it up, its lightness betraying its artificiality, the purplish paintwork stopping just short of the base. I stare at the small, styrofoam fig sitting on top of a mound of earth at my bappou’s grave and wonder how it got there. Daniele Nunziata, Grandfather’s Potatoes “I’ve tried planting potatoes since you left,īut they never grow the way they did for you. ![]()
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