For Grandma Mary
I wish I’d met her But I half forget her And the parts I have Were only told to me.
They’re mushy and blurry And they make me worry, see- There’s a ghost, I see her, at the edge of these scenes I can’t see it but I feel it, I feel the unseen.
Sure, domestic bliss, but can’t you all see this? Sure, thank you for the kiss, but first- isn’t that weird mist?
I don’t mean to rock the boat. I don’t mean to be too mean. But you don’t mention her, don’t venture there, Into those things unseen.











