Sandra Hosking

Strawberry

I shot my grandmother, almost
at the cabin in Strawberry,
snow kissing its chestnut slats
and white scalloped trim.
Two-year-old me upstairs, alone
in the slanted bedroom,
which smells like painted firewood.
I inspect drawers and find
a comb, a pencil, a .45
I level the barrel at the door
as Gran appears,
her mouth a perfect O.

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Sandra Hosking is a Pushcart-nominated poet, playwright, and photographer based in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in Red Ogre Review, The Elevation Review, Havik, Black Lion Review, and more. She holds M.F.A. degrees in theatre and creative writing.