Because this is what is left

Poetry day 13/31

Grace Moore

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Photo by Linas Drulia on Unsplash

My grandfather will never again
pick the turkey carcass clean
pulling every bit of usable flesh
from bone
making sure that every bit
that can be saved
is

never again pull back the swing
and let it go
push it again and again
higher and higher
until grandma tells him
be careful
we wouldn’t want me to get hurt

never again lift me up in the pool
carry me on his back through the deep end
keep my head above the water
because I couldn’t swim
— it took me years to get the hang of
staying afloat on my own

never again hit the steering wheel
out of rhythm with the radio
floss his teeth in the living room
or wear a denim vest open
over his bare chest

Never again —
most of these were already gone
before he was
it was years and years since the last time
he held me up
or sat at the head of the dinner table

Never again —
but I keep going back to them
all the same

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Grace Moore is a writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. Her interests include travel, reading, and doing any activity that involves supplies from the craft store. She lives in Washington with her husband, where they can often be found discussing Doctor Who in-depth. Click here to sign up for her newsletter and get a free guide to overcoming writer’s block.

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Grace Moore

Learning to do this writer thing and sharing as I go. Poetry, CNF, mental health, and too many other interests. Support: ko-fi.com/gracemoore