There are ghosts in my grandmother's house.
We can meet them, though not in the body.
My grandmother now is younger and more feminine.
She doesn't need the home that was
the eye of the cyclone,
the one point of stability
in my chaotic childhood.
There are ghosts in my grandmother's house,
and they are all alive.
My grandmother is still a poet,
and an Irish patriot.
She needs no country,
she needs no house,
but we still
need her.
There are ghosts in my grandmother's house,
and they come to mine.
Text Copyright © 2021 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
