Monday, April 30, 2012

To Forget, to Remember

When my grandmother forgot how
to brush her hair and twist it into a bun
my grandfather combed her hair.

Once he said it was red like fire.

When my grandmother remembered
yesterday and lost today
my grandfather spread photos
on their claw footed dining room table.
They revisited the past,
a tableau of scenes.

Once he said we fished
for silver bream in the Don River.

For a year my grandmother forgot
and my grandfather remembered.
Day after day they returned
to Russian words.

Ya tebya lyublyu, he said.
I love you.

Poetic Asides prompt*


Blogger Black Jack's Carol said...

Heartbreakingly beautiful.

May 03, 2012  

Post a Comment

<< Home