I see myself in her...

Back when I was made of ice,
Every slice and bite precise.
Grandmother's collarbones like
Soft skin cut by knives; birdlike.

I see myself in her...

The treadmill is her best friend.
Against herself, she contends,
Stuck in a world of pretend.
Her own skeleton: her friend.

I see myself in her...

Grandmother chilled to the bone.
Present summertime unknown.
She's carving her own tombstone,
Out of her sharp hipbones.

I see myself in her...

Was that how they looked at me?
With confusion and worry?
Was I the storm on the sea?
Or the dark depths underneath?