Tagged: grandmother

your stories live on

your stories live on
long after you have left us –
grandma’s great pot of

dill, simmering on the stove,
its scent fueling new memories
.
20230129:1136
y

all at once, you are

all at once, you are
everywhere – in the butterfly
visiting the west

side, the dragonfly passing
through the garden this morning
.
20210814:1909
y

i am grandmother-

i am grandmother-
less, a feeling that carries
privilege at the point

of distinction, a state of
being struggling to be spoiled
.
20210811:0510
y

the knot is too tight

the knot is too tight,
she is probably trying
to say – day after

day after day after day,
molded into man’s image
.
20190213:2239
y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: image

january is

january is
helping grandma hang on or
let go, wavering
.
20190124:2212
y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: wavering

the impermanence

the impermanence
of things pains me – this afternoon,
finding a crack in

grandma’s ring and wondering
how it got there, how to rewind
.
20181212:1605
y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: rewind

my six aunts and

my six aunts and
uncle gather around
grandma’s hospital
bed, allowing
the performance of
procedure to overtake the
art of living.
Their hands
are collectively
tied in the pursuit
of individual
blamelessness.

grandma looks
on, one against
six, a tube down
her throat, mindful
of cumulative losses.

as in every
situation, time
flexes its
muscles, taunting us
to hold on or let go
while duty,
devotion, and rivalry
measure us for both
.
20180512:1047
y

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i am delicately

i am delicately
peeling into
this memory i have
of you – how we
rarely had
lychees
in our youth
unless
you were visiting –
maybe you’d carry
with you only
a small bag of
the sweet fruits,
and still, it was
up to us
to peel away
the tough outer
layer, past the inner
membrane,
to get to
the unforgettable
part, the stuff
of memories
.
20171122:2005
y

i am opening

i am opening
a fresh package of
candied pinto
beans and
remembering
how you used to
carry them overseas,
from grandma to
grandma to
granddaughter,
hand to hand to
hand, an exchange
all at once
familiar and
unfamiliar, a
sugar-coated
nostalgia
.
20160729:0800
y

for the period

for the period
between
when the spirit leaves
the body and the
body leaves its
constitution –
there is fiction
and nonfiction –
i slip
between the
pages to reread
all your stories and
realize
life cannot be
contained
.
20141014:0837
y