By Wendy Hammond

Perhaps
Grandma taught me
To snap the string beans
For anxiety relief
Maybe she
Knew more
Than I gave her credit for
Because here I sit
Forty years later
In the middle of it
With a bowl of
Tense green beans  
And a pile of little endings
I need to throw away
On a hot summer day
In the middle of July
I split my fears
And eat my tension
Every seven times
And I see grandma’s hands
Showing mine
Breaking off
The split ends of life
One bean at a time