Written by: Paul Sylvester

centered within a square
splashed with creeping
seeping, light to spare

but shadowed really
a dull affair
someone lift a hand
draw back the frilly, folded

drawn shut all night 
               and day
never to let the indecent smut of
play    take one step inside
Grandmother's eyes are shut

Her thick, bony hide
spotted, dotted with age
and dirt and clean and an
immaculate life
                rutted, pock-
                marked creases
and crow's feet
Grandmother's eyes are shut

She stumbles forward
bent with rage
"Who opened this house to
the effects of day?"

Grandmother's eyes are shut, 
and there they stay.