“April 30, 2019”

Written in




My grandmother —

On her deathbed


With the last

Of her hair

A mixed bag

Of bedheadedness

And sweat-licked patches —

Is pillow-propped

But finally dozing

At ease

Now that she’s

Completely debt free

At 83 —

She hears

I’m here

And sits up

As if

She’s fine —

And it’s high time

In her mind

To ask whether I’m


After my trip

To the ER

Four days prior —

“Kailey honey —

How’s your finger?”

She asks like

I’ve imagined

Her labored breathing


Critical concern —

My grandmother

Is dying

But smiles wide

When I tell her —

“It’s just four stitches, Nan

Stupid cat-food can.”




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