My Grandma
My grandma's sandy skin
like chopped pecans delight me
stands for comfort and bitter sorties
the dysfunction and re-joining
the colossal, quasi-expressionistic soul
hidden behind despair
a husband who tried to bury you alive
we crossed disquieting silences
and productive scowls, you would get my temper
teetering on the blink of a slap
you would assure me with a pair of eyes
and I, gasping with delight
would ask you for a hug
yet passion is so much stauncher
when doesn't stride out from the chest
when it keeps quiet and invest
the beauty of a kiss
embroidered in your throat
so I keep on kissing you
and you never get enough
and I shall never pass
on feeling your son, through your daughter's act
a replica of a miracle
Copyright © Aldo Quagliotti | Year Posted 2022
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