Granpa’s Girl June 2011
Bubbles of air rose up to my mouth.
Swelling and mucus filled the space used for breath.
Dreams woke up to glued passage for air.
She came in during the night answering
The call button placed by my side.
Referring to a computer screen menu
Prescribed for me,
She would slowly push liquids into my vein.
Her fingers coaxed chyle through thin plastic tubing,
Adjusted a machine measuring oxygen in my blood.
Her story revealed itself in pieces.
“Granpa didn’t like tattoos”
” My mother had me when she was sixteen”
“Lilies were in my wedding bouquet.”
” “Walking around the corner I saw my father. I looked just like him.”
I wanted to make a photograph of her soft young wrists
Turned over, showing me her bracelets of tattoos,
White, tinged with blue hydrangeas, pink rose buds,
Pink and white lilies being the background
For my portrait of Granpa’s girl.
Wow Carla! So good you are! A poet, a painter, a survivor!
I love you!
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