Lyricizes

My grandmother says we’ve brought her here to die.

Her paranoia probes under our fingernails
with a splintered stick,
splitting the tissue-beds, prying us apart.
We give her pills for our pain.

Her cataracts cloud over
her unlettered  bewilderment.
but she can still see old blood on the ceiling
of the state hospital.

My mother is wrung, she can’t sleep.
Guilt stretches out on her bed,
nesting on sheets of the unsigned hospital plan.

We’ve had to put a price on my grandmother.
The doctor at the private clinic tells my uncle
hip operations costs hundreds of thousands
and old people don’t make it that far.

Love them beyond
the first fallen tooth,
beyond the scrapings of their knees.
Love them beyond
the breaking of toys
beyond the whistling crack of voices.
Love them beyond
the down on their chins,
beyond the girls on their walls.
When you can no longer carry them,
This is when you must hold them.

Love them when they make your mistakes,
When your wisdom gets too small.
Love them when they leave you.
When their choices are not yours.

If all you know is what your father gave,
take it with its lacking.
Love with imperfection
and love your sons beyond.