Home >> Volume 1, Issue 03


Patricia Mickelberry

And what of these two
with their visible bones
and days pared down
who are yet my own grandmothers?
I could place one here, one there
like two old candles
so that I might then
perceive the infinity of them
remember my memories of them
perhaps fathom that I belong to them—
though I did not inherit
the ingénue eyes
or the wit or the poise—
for so often I forget
my own life’s debt
leaving them bereft
approaching death
approaching death
with their purses emptied
without their purses
with nothing to die for
but the love of my life.