my face is on my grandmother's lacy diningroom table
it used to laugh through the creaky hallways
and pounce up the wooden stairs
and lay in the creek
but now it is imprisoned on the table
with all the other relatives
who are gone
that my grandmother
leaves there.
she walks by them
dusts the shelves by the big window
arranges chairs
avoids my frightening grandfather
reads books
drinks her tea
stares at the ghosts of her granddaughters
seated around her diningroom table.
i didn't mean to haunt her
i am sorry
grandmother