grandmother
see she is quiet
and whispers
a prayer in hand
and two in the bush
are not enough
there must be more she mouths across the living room
and i know she wants me to look
i could pretend i don't see her open mouth
i could pretend not to decipher the words
i could have fallen asleep
but i rise
from a waist deep slouch in brown tweed recliner
bureau bureau bureau she directs
left hand left hand left hand
side
and there are things one learns
how to answer without telling
how to move without motion
how how how
i rummage
and look back towards her
she nods and i rummage more
she keeps nodding and i keep rummaging
and we could continue till
i realize i know not what i am looking for
till she forgets what it was
sitting back on underturned toes
i wait for direction
must be in the attic she becomes certain
i am certain too
and we encourage each others certainness
knowing the awkward silence of let me think
the uncomfortableness of forgetting
where should i place my hands
on my thighs as i push up to stand
on her cheeks as i kiss her forehead
on the sheets as she is tucked in
they end up in my pockets
pulling jeans down under hip bones
kneading pockets into fist small balls
there is something i enjoy feeling thigh muscle under cloth
small tiny threads i control with my brain
like the bony heat from when i was ten
pumping and spinning bicycle tires
half a mile to the playground
there were times she would walk beside me
as i biked slowly to the swings
or i would speed ahead
then circle back around her
ahead and back again
go on go on she would tell me
but i always came back
making sure she was still coming
i needed an audience
and she was the one
higher higher i was encouraged
faster faster
and it seemed that was all anyone could need
lets stay here i would beg
they won't miss us
oh but we would miss them and
she somehow convinced me that that was true
there were times
when she would walk beside me
and there were times
when we both knew what we were looking for
