Dream of my Grandmother, born in the year of the rat

Dream of my grandmother, only wisps of remembering
I look at her picture this morning with a stab of familiarity

as if just hours ago I left her on vacation in Bermuda,

or fell behind as she fast walked up 7^th Avenue on her buying trip,

or was it while I struggled to peel a peach for Grampse

she disappeared in the garden?

Her energy announced her

my sister and I her willing audience

or co-conspirators to surprise.

Every night a new story,

her back rubs cast out our nightmares.

The summers with her were hiatus

from the manic atmosphere our home.

Once she tried to charm a cornered rat

which bither hand offering food;
the only unbedazzled animal
she ever met.