like a golem
lies dormant under the bed,
the plaintive cries of her children's children
bright eyed and pink toed,
peering into the darkness:
a detritus of dog's hair, dust bunnies,
old skin cells
"I need you, Grandma!"
With the sound of a frozen tire,
mis-shapen and thumping over hard ground,
she rolls out
into the light
(as dog's claws clatter on hardwood floors,
scrabbling for purchase);
she peers up at them
- lips pulled back revealing
gleaming gums and teeth, smiling
and not smiling -
voice indignant and abuzz,
"no son of mine will grow a beard!"
back towards the void
"wait, Grandma, wait!"
stops her dead
and pulling her towards
(her daughter's sons and daughters,
what was gnarled inside her,
There's life in this old girl, yet.