Rasunah Marsden
Testimony: Grandma

this is what an old man who drinks and smokes his entire life smells
like, grandma

this is what old men must smell like before they die, grandma,
almost all the same, probably,

this is how they walk when they are old grandma,

I know you wondered about those things, they were all a mystery,

I know you wished your own mother could have lived as long as
you,

I know you wondered why and how you lived so long,

this is what they do when they are angry, grandma,

they throw fits and talk venomously,

they yank the intravenous tubes out and attempt

to run out the hospital doors, they don’t want to die amongst
strangers

they want to be where you are grandma, smelling of roses,
where your fingers still embroider.

this is what an old man whose brothers were lost in the war drums
like, grandma,

he comes and goes as he pleases and his children fight against his
savagery,

into her old age your daughter loses the memory of all the painful
years,

she forgets the name of her first-born, grandma

and his only son vanishes before our eyes, at the bottom of the stairs,
in front of the widow with the widow’s chin,

remarrying two more men like him who die before their time,

his other daughter, nipped in the bud at six months, you mourned
her sweet watery eyes your whole life, grandma,

with every silken stitch of doll’s clothes you made for her -

so many dolls, they spilled overtop the upright glass display case,
your grandchildren’s fingers eagerly smudged, swooning over
brightly colored ribbons

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