My grandfather's not dead
but you act like he is
the way you tiptoe around the closed oak door
way you whisper in a scratchy voice
when you talk about the future
way you pop in your
set of pearly whites
and bare your teeth too easily
when he asks you for a glass of water
and your brassy trumpet tells him
of course, dear, are you feeling okay?
You think that I've caught on
and know better than to trade him secrets
beneath the cracked door to your bedroom
like copper pennies for freedom
and that I don't remember him
throwing diving sticks at the bottom of the pool
then snatching them up and waving them above his head
far from my six-year-old reach
or when sitting upon his knee as a child
I would pick at the edges of the sepia photos
as he traced the veins of our family
back to seventy-second great-aunts
and royalty
I help you count the red pills
as I recall my favorite hiding place
(your fireplace)
and you shake your head and scold me
that was an awful place to hide
what if there had been cinders?
I tell you
we live in Texas
and tuck my wishes back into my pocket
and mention that Granddad thought it was
a fantastic place to visit
and that I would sit there for hours
and pretend I was a phoenix
from the old mythology books
in the musty back of your closet
You laugh as you slip him his pills
you can't possibly remember that
But I remember and
I insist on discussing college while he's in the room
his wrinkly eyes smile when I plot out my dreams
and he knows that I know
but I keep our secret anyway
you simper at my mother
oh, isn't she precious
hopeful and hoping a cure will be found
but you don't realize I've already discovered it:
Pretend like nothing has happened
Don't let them see the ticking hours on the mantelpiece
As long as we know that we're not older
beneath these transcripts and chemotherapies
the real world doesn't matter
not really, not at all
My grandfather's alive
even if you think he isn't
but he is
and he's sitting in your drawing room
so why don't you pop by for a visit?
we're only pretending, anyway.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 8:33 PM UTC
My grandfather's not dead
but you act like he is
the way you tiptoe around the closed oak door
way you whisper in a scratchy voice
when you talk about the future
way you pop in your
set of pearly whites
and bare your teeth too easily
when he asks you for a glass of water
and your brassy trumpet tells him
of course, dear, are you feeling okay?
You think that I've caught on
and know better than to trade him secrets
beneath the cracked door to your bedroom
like copper pennies for freedom
and that I don't remember him
throwing diving sticks at the bottom of the pool
then snatching them up and waving them above his head
far from my six-year-old reach
or when sitting upon his knee as a child
I would pick at the edges of the sepia photos
as he traced the veins of our family
back to seventy-second great-aunts
and royalty
I help you count the red pills
as I recall my favorite hiding place
(your fireplace)
and you shake your head and scold me
that was an awful place to hide
what if there had been cinders?
I tell you
we live in Texas
and tuck my wishes back into my pocket
and mention that Granddad thought it was
a fantastic place to visit
and that I would sit there for hours
and pretend I was a phoenix
from the old mythology books
in the musty back of your closet
You laugh as you slip him his pills
you can't possibly remember that
But I remember and
I insist on discussing college while he's in the room
his wrinkly eyes smile when I plot out my dreams
and he knows that I know
but I keep our secret anyway
you simper at my mother
oh, isn't she precious
hopeful and hoping a cure will be found
but you don't realize I've already discovered it:
Pretend like nothing has happened
Don't let them see the ticking hours on the mantelpiece
As long as we know that we're not older
beneath these transcripts and chemotherapies
the real world doesn't matter
not really, not at all
My grandfather's alive
even if you think he isn't
but he is
and he's sitting in your drawing room
so why don't you pop by for a visit?
we're only pretending, anyway.