Annabella

She showed us nothing

is beyond our mercy.

Watch her play the

lifeguard as her palm’s a

paramedic for mosquitos.

Form an IV with her veins.

Even locusts get CPR—

the warmth of her every

breath on each appendage.

She gave her Cheerios to

the voles we scoffed were vermin.

Stuffed them through the cracks

like tiny donuts.

She offered kernels to the crows

so they’d forget about the worms.

The more it poured the

greater her recompense.

Repaying her weathered

umbrella for all the years

it kept her dry. Tucked it in

her coat so it wasn’t

soaked.

She’d asked us in advance

to place a robin’s egg beside her

in the casket. A crevice in its blue—

like a fault within the Earth—

too tapered for the sun to reach

its core; redressing the moment

she was five, had tried to birth it faster

so its wings could brush the sky

a little sooner. Imbibe

a greater love before us all. Supplant

our gods & fate; the selectiveness

of their pity.

Andreas Gripp

August 29, 2026

photograph: Laslo Varga / Wikipedia