In memorium.

I just found out my great-grandmother died recently, and so I tried to write something in her honor. Nothing really captures how great of a person she was, but I thought it was the least I could do.

--
"Lucille"

My fingers snap green beans,
Forcing them from their pods,
Nectar spilling and staining
my fingers.
The mark of a good woman was
Her ability to drown in these juices at every meal,
To kiss the kitchen floor with her feet
And bless the pots with her biceps,
To inhale the dust from every fabric in her house
With her wrists. And to hold her breath and drown.
I was always an adept swimmer.
I was the type of woman who was indifferent to the stream,
To the moral fibers not within my chest,
A lone fragment, pliant but weathered.
Mulberry lips and sharp knuckles,
Eyes colored from the cotton fields,
Eyes colored from the human heart.
I was the type of woman
To kiss thunder and pray in the snow,
Knobby knees on frozen asphalt,
In silent worship of the woman named
Lucille.

--

Rest, great-grandma. I love you and hope you've found peace.