the grandma of my memory
still grows still retains the scent
of white shoulders and
old-fashioned romance

which lingers at her throat
and neck like a necklace and
bracelet made of hope and mist
and perhaps a little poetry

like is stronger than love
she once told me because
love isn't a choice and like
just comes naturally

that day we walked through
the mall like princesses as
she eyed men half her age
then pulled me close

to swing dance to the store
music to show me how today
could be just ours just by
playing it that way

we moved on
trying on outfits we knew we
wouldn't buy in this lifetime
and picked out red

hair dye and bright red
lipstick to show the world
that she's still got it then
outside she smoked

as always without inhaling
and laughed like a jackal
I'd reminded her of the
time we refused to

pay the cab that stalled
on the hill during the worst
snowstorm of that season
back home

she cooks
biscuits and gravy and
strawberry pie with an old
western playing too

loud from the den
her voice and all the actors
mingling like a hundred
songs in a jukebox

as we settle on the couch
our love shining like buttons
holding that moment just so
until we dig in and eat

safe and satisifed that
another day will come.

Comments (1)

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courtney said:

the captured the many sides of "grandmother" so well. it made me want to go sit and have a coffee with mine again!

November 15, 2007

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