Things they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night:
When you wake the next morning, you still
need to get out of bed in time for work, you still
have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush
your teeth and hair;
and when your mother calls
to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost
her dad last night;
and when you call your grandmother
your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because
she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even
though she would never hold it against you, you still
feel obligated not to cry;
THE GREAT WHITE HUNTER HAS SPOKEN by eqlrytes, journal
THE GREAT WHITE HUNTER HAS SPOKEN
One Winter's Eve.....
Wife shoves a cell phone under her Husband's nose.
"You see that? What'd I tell you, huh?"
Husband> [ grunt #1]
Wife> "You wanted proof. Well, there it is. Now what?"
Husband> "Those aren't wolf tracks, Sev."
Wife> "They're not?"
Husband> "Nope. Coyote. The metacarpal pad is - "
Wife pulls the phone away. " Pfft! I don't give a rat's ass how you classify it. The thing was big. It had yellow, beady eyes, and it looked dangerous.
Husband> [grunt #2]
Wife> "Like it wanted to eat me."
Husband> [grunt #3] "No comment."
Wife> "So what do we do?"
Husband> [grunt #4]
Jasmine left the house and tucked her chin into her winter coat. This was good as it hid her insane mutterings both visibly and audibly. It was also very comfy.
“Um, okay,” she said to herself as she made her way down the street. “Everything’s okay. This morning is okay.” She manoeuvred around smeared dog-shit. “Gross. But gross. Everything’s okay but gross.” A man turned onto the street she was walking on. “Okaaay. Everything’s okay and gross and I’m going to die.” She made fists in her pockets, remembering to keep her thumb on the outside like Toby said. “I’
i.
In my dream Grandpa My stands in the veranda
across from my apartment—as always, in the shade,
and his linen shirt shows no perspiration from the heat.
I believe we are in dry Madrid where I have not been
for years. He has been dead twice as long, yet here he is:
no death mask and his smile calm. Grandpa! I call.
From my window our eyes meet. Grandpa! It's me!
He remains smiling, but won't return my wave.
ii.
In the next dream Grandma Suzy comes to visit,
maneuvers herself through the door of my Piso.
Grandma, I say, hurry! Grandpa's here.
She gives a girlish laugh and comes to my window.
She is seventeen, as she was in Chicago
Amanda-Graham on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/amanda-graham/art/shift-change-554489501Amanda-Graham
she died in 1990,
a stern lady
who had worn her hair in a bun.
she was from old farm days,
when one didn't care for caprice,
and didn't object routine.
as if to ward off danger,
she'd spray vinegar
on frightful stormy nights.1
people came to her because she knew
what those wax formations on water meant:
what caused recurring fever, which prayer could work.2
a town cook, 3
Ina4 could whip up a feast
and make me forget my name.
she was lady-steel until the morning when
her firstborn didn't rise from sleep 5
and so she refused to be and no longer laughed.
she mellowed
and with all her wisdom, i felt
she had no words for sorrow.
who is walking towards me
with the lumbering gait?
as the horns blare,
they gleam in the heat
sweating music
as he comes closer,
nearing the crowd,
a one-man parade.
the regiments are only
cardboard cutouts,
affixed with glue to their
wooden scabbards.
he is the captain
his cigar is succulent,
pleasantly burning,
and I was afraid.
the old woman stands in her doorway
on the threshold she peers at his shadow
she recalls a long-lost suitor
who was ravished by the sea
she perceives the captain's face
wondering at the eyes behind the sunglasses
and now he is pausing at her home
she takes his offered hand, kissing the signet there
grateful