Me and Charlie usually
have breakfast over at Gran’s now,
on account of our empty pantry
and even emptier icebox.
The other day, Charlie took
Gran’s recipe for biscuits
from the book that sits
on Gran’s cabinet corner
and tried to make some for us,
but when we opened the flour
from our pantry, it moved.
Charlie screamed and made me
take it out back and dump it.
I didn’t tell her, but I gagged
watching that flour crawl
when I shook it out on our grass.