it looks like this :
a row of dots which shout out joining
it looks like my grandmother
still tall at 90
still beautiful
the one I haven’t seen in years
standing in the cold on her balcony
facing south to where the old grey river leans
bent to feed a bird
the fat brown wife of the sleek black one
her hair slightly lifting
it looks like reaching across the miles
across the years to ask her if she’d mind
if i stood with her while
the mountains i am going to are the ones
people have always gone to
to escape the constant sound of
everything always wanting
to find the thing which doesn’t want, nada
it looks like – will I need my jumper ? – home

 

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