top of page

Nina Bennett, one poem

  • Jan 1, 2018
  • 1 min read

Grandma Jenny’s China

Stacked on a shelf in the pantry

of my mother’s kitchen, a bouquet

first refused by her two sisters,

then three granddaughters reluctant to claim

dainty blue flowers that must be hand-washed.

Fragile as an old woman’s bones,

dinner plates separated by sleeves of cardboard,

dessert dishes encircled with a thin gold band, smooth

as my grandmother’s wedding ring.

The owner of Main Street Antiques

gestures toward displays of family china,

shelves piled with dramas and dreams,

shakes his head, pats my shoulder as I close

the lid, lift the box from his counter.

Delaware native Nina Bennett is the author of Sound Effects (2013, Broadkill Press Key Poetry Series). Her poetry has been nominated for the Best of the Net, and has appeared or is forthcoming in publications that include Switchback, I-70 Review, Gargoyle, Bryant Literary Review, Yale Journal for Humanities in Medicine, Philadelphia Stories, and The Broadkill Review. Awards include 2014 Northern Liberties Review Poetry Prize, and second-place in poetry book category from the Delaware Press Association (2014). Nina is a founding member of the TransCanal Writers (Five Bridges, A Literary Anthology).


Recent Posts

See All
"A Love Story" by Natalie Marino

While on an evening walk, we see two dogs mating in an abandoned lot full of tall grass. Holding your hand in mine I look up at the moon looking like a coin caught between two cypress trees. I wonder

 
 
"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see there’s a small duck i’ve been waiting for. i tell the duck my name, who i am. it probably doesn’t remember, but that’s fine. i remind myself that when you find an

 
 
"pit hymnal" by Klara Pokrzywa

Star of this soreness I laugh myself awake, sling deep into the heave. Straight out of dirt road walking and at capacity—this being the back-alley way; the heartbreak; the running away constantly. Int

 
 
bottom of page