My grandmother never said the words I love you,
speaking instead in Blackjack for taffy on the flowered davenport
in a living room free from pictures of my grandpa
green Tupperware Oreos in the icebox, extra blankets in the clothes press
sleepovers on school nights, the perfectly toasted waffle
and
knowing what she must about dreams
the way she looked outside, beyond her window, saying only
oh David,
Grandma won’t be around to see that.
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