Gesundheit;
Just looked back over the letters I never sent
There were so many of them
I can always start but seldom finish
Not just innuendo, trust me,
I wish that it were
That would be a better problem to have
Grandfather ambled about,
In some strokes standing as still as a
Clock and waiting for me to
Wind him. I didn't just then,
Too rusted. Peered through the blinds,
Some light spilled in, I sunk further
Under the covers like Nosferatu,
Dracula, accurate.
Demon.
Eventually he left me to
My slumber again but the
Tranquility was disturbed,
****** left the lid to the coffin
Wide open.
Later I shifted about,
Slinking around different eaves,
Trying to disappear
From the frames of any
Francophilic voyeurs,
I can never find them
Though I know they're always there
Later still returning to the
Origin point of that morning
Finding grandmother now occupying
That plot where I bury and unseal and bury again
She asked if she should leave
But I assured her I'd tell her
Were that ever the case
Though I surely wouldn't:
She's sensitive like I am,
She knows all the signs from her youth abroad
Her mother alternating between
Stints of fox and hare in as
Many rapid cycles
of the phases of the moon
Tareyton smoke drifting over
The damp gardens of tea leaves
She read for prophecies always
Served to keep her steady until
They walled her up in a mattress room
Some of us aren't designed for this place
The coveted excuse of genes,
These weaknesses are inherited traits
A return call from the doctor
Too distracted to find a pen