When I spoke to my grandfather this morning, Judy’s heavy breathing, heavy eyelids, slow steps behind an oxygen tank for half a year and longer,
made sense, finally.
And now she will leave us
He is older than I realized
and Mother cried after Christmas Eve that he is not well
Come summer or spring, he will search for movies on strange high-speed devices that he cannot manipulate
alone, if at all
And there will be Clara to take care of
Clara, who lives heartily even sixteen years after Norwood’s passing,
Who is so beautiful even in her infinite regression,
No longer trusted with a fishing pole:
Her house carries indentations of ardor where she has met it on her lawnmower
more than once
There will survive mother and son without partner
and age will be too great a barrier for even a wandering heart like his too seek a new beginning in Eros’ wake
We will be the next ones to bear children and someday grow old and fruitful
-BHN
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