Grandmother Fugue from Issue 53
Stranger, I cross your room
Daughter, you cross my room
looking you over as I go
overlooking me as you goㅡ
to the window overlooking mulberries.
the window, at least, sees
Your will specifies ashes.
how my will has beat this thing to ashes.
I am never who you think I am.
I am not, you think. I am.
I wonder when I will have to arrange
So make other arrangements
chairs in the shape of a sonnet,
for this chair that shapes me like a sonnet.
hire a rabbi. It won’t be long.
Hire a band. It won’t be long.
The rhymes you sang to me as a child
The rhymes I sang to you as a child
I can only hum now, wordless.
I can still sing. Listen.