The Last Words Of My English Grandmother
There were some dirty plates
And a glass of milk
Beside her on a small table
Near the rank, disheveled bed-
Wrinkled and nearly blind
She lay and snored
Rousing with anger in her tones
To cry for food,
Gimme something to eat-
They’re starving me-
I’m all right I won’t go
To the hospital. No, no, no
Give me something to eat
Let me take you
To the hospital, I said
And after you are well
You can do as you please.
She smiled, Yes
You do what you please first
Then I can do what I please-
Oh, oh, oh! she cried
As the ambulance men lifted
Her to the stretcher-
Is this what you call
Making me comfortable?
By now her mind was clear-
Oh you think you’re smart
You young people,
She said, but I’ll tell you
You don’t know anything.
Then we started.
On the way
We passed a long row
Of elms. She looked at them
Awhile out of
The ambulance window and said,
What are all those
Fuzzy-looking things out there?
Trees? Well, I’m tired
Of them and rolled her head away.
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