The ice cracked, a smile,
But she never did
Even when she said her
Dentures hitchhiked to Florida,
Wearing her pink shades.
Despite her age, she broke
Her old man’s arm
Because he didn’t believe
She caught a flying Saucer
Hovering above the roof.
Her children debated putting
Her in a home, if
Only for their sanity,
The old man’s protection—
No consensus reached.
Every evening, in a terror,
She claimed a cow kicked
Some righteous sense
Into the sun, and at night
The moon, poor wanderer.
In the bathroom mirror, she
Said aloud, “How many more…
Days like this and nights
I dream I am nothing but some
Kind of headless torso.”
On her last night, sirens
Called out and she was afraid.
Still, even in darkness, a face
Of fire appeared on the ceiling—
By then, she was already ashes.
