I stand next to her
watching her face
change
grow older
in the span
of a phone call,
long distance.
How her hands
clenched
veins
more apparent than before.
She bends forward
clutching something
that is not there
repeating
"Tell her to wait for me."
I do not know what to say -
try to reach out.
But at sixteen
what could I know
about
letting
go?
I never knew my grandmother well
but knew enough
of the fear
that I would lose my mother
and watched
as
she
lost
hers.
