my grandfather dies today
and wherever i look i see my mother's face.
his dead daughter and the day in her little kitchen
when he yelled into her small ear
"we love you, Neesie! we love you!"
as if she could hear him
as if her ear
like the rest of her
were not now simply a shell.
my grandfather dies today
and everywhere i look
i see my mother's face.
my grandmother says:
"i wish my eldest were here..."
and i watch tears flow out of my eyes in the closet mirror.
my face, red and child-like.
my eyes, the same as my siblings
the same as my mother
the same as my grandmother
they lay a flag over my mother's father
over my grandmother's husband
the shell below stripes is my grandfather
and everywhere i look,
my mother's body in a black bag.
