1915-1997

[tired_symphony]

Nothing is left of Grandma
Except a pair of glasses
Legs crossed, left lens foggy
A closet of mothball dresses
Like those on a thrift store rack
A coin purse plump with
Wheat pennies, buffalo nickels
A Polaroid of a grandson tugging
Grandma’s wrinkled neck
A turkey off
To the slaughterhouse