Grandma
Grandma
My hands hesitate here… hovering over the keyboard…
Numb, hard to make do as I ask…
This should be happy,
but I am…
crying.
I miss her.
She smoked cigarettes,
like a chimney.
She did not hold to drinking…
Or anything else, God was not okay with…
“Do you hear!” (not a ?)
She picked cotton.
Her hands were still soft.
Her hair was always silk, from birth to death.
She never finished third grade,
but could shoot better than any man in the county.
This was not contested. It was known.
There was an incident… but it was or is no longer talked about.
Well, at least by people that hate the truth of things.
(just winged him… what a coot)
She drove a truck with two sticks off the floor.
The tractor, it drove her. (some times out of control on the hill, wow…)
Canning, sewing, things that hold goods for tomorrow,
learned early,
and then passed it all, on;
to me.
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