2005/grandma

She kept
her kids
close.
Moved in
after her husband
died.
I don’t know
much else.
A trunk remains
which my cousin
has.
I’ve never seen it
but wish that
it were mine.
She rests in
the cemetery
near town,
the least interesting
one of all
the ancestral
burial grounds,
where even
the old stones
seem new.
In fact, her husband’s
stone is.
Recently replaced
by the cousins
who live there.
Because it cracked
I think.
They took me there
that day,
A Sunday and everyone
nicely dressed,
John F.
in a silk
shirt,
Joe struggling
to breathe,
Patsy carrying
her grandson,
the wet, freshly
mowed grass
sticking to their(our)
shoes.

7/1/05