In the spirit of National Poetry Month, over the next few days Reads will be publishing five original poems, submitted by Stanford students and chosen by the Arts & Life editors. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do, and that you continue to read, write and celebrate poetry.

On Sundays light leaks through the window,  drapes itself over her like a tallit &  for a moment I forget how to say  lineage  holy  I know you  I know you  On Sundays I bring my grandmother  bread, cold cuts and fish from the local deli  On Sundays grandmother is slowly unravelling & all I can think  about is ways to feel full in a body  On Sundays I count the obsessions in this house:             wildflowers that come & go                       prehistoric glass menageries                                 forgetting how to remember  On Sundays my grandmother will ask  the same question she asked yesterday  On Sundays splitting open fish  is a way of learning medicine  On Sundays the fish cuts teeth and for a second  I mistake it with the glass menagerie  On Sundays the bones never looked so familiar  On Sundays I too forget and ask the same question–