Breakfast with my Grandmother
Charlotte KeaneIssue 2Poetry
As all others slept, she was ours /
and we were hers.
As all others slept, she was ours /
and we were hers.
I found you in the space /
beneath blood and bone.
far from sea, from sun – afraid
after my sister died i gave her a day
from each of my weeks.
Idle witness to nature’s flourish contained /
my hand divines the way
But look at the swans! I said /
pulling my girl past night beds
He wore a scarlet scrap of his uncle’s brunt.
There is space enough
To go around.
My lamp will guide alone in these precincts.
or how deeply, how thoroughly, I am writing/ away a million years of history that erased me.