“How does it feel to be old?”
My grandpa recently went to Alabama
where he buried his older brother.
Most of his friends have been dead
a while, but a few still call his house.
Then grandpa spends a couple
of weeks talking about how bad off
they are, rehashing the same stories
every time I visit, sometimes twice.
My daddy would say, “You already told
me that.” But I am not my father,
so I force a smile, hoping, for once,
that the glaucoma will hide my
salty cheeks and the terrible face I make
when I cry. He remembers how his
generation is dying like cats to the coyotes.
“But I’m lucky. It happens to everyone. Who
am I to think I’m special?”
As a student of English and Modern Languages, Merrell Miles enjoys writing, reading, and communication. As a child of the Delta, her poetry radiates her blue-collar roots. When she isn’t running with Ro, her Australian Shepherd, Merrell frequently explores Compamento Viejo, Olancho, Honduras.