Back Lit

She uses the light from the kitchen
window to get a better view of the
screen in her hands and it almost
doesn’t matter that it isn’t back lit.
Her grandmother is stirring egg yolks
into an amalgamation of specific dry
ingredients to make lunch for everyone.
Her parents are making out like teenagers
in her father’s childhood room finally getting
a break from having to be mothers and fathers,
and the joint they smoked in secret is in an ash
tray on the roof which was easily accessible
from his window. Driving the same lawn mower
he’s had for decades her grandfather looks up
briefly from his work in the front yard and
chuckles after seeing the small plume of smoke
spiraling up into the air from the roach that was
never extinguished.

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