Sep 022011
My Grandfather wore
A watch chain
Across his waistcoat
Greasy stains
Of last weeks fish in butter
Sucking bones,
And tea from a saucer.
A folding wooden table
By the wall
The plastic cloth
Slippery to touch, smelled
Of lard and
Grandfathers fish.
He couldn’t see or hear
A thing in the end
He smelled of age
And anger
No shirt collar
No smile.
