Grandmother: Crossing Jordan
By Melvin Dixon
Rippling hospital sheets
circle your brown body
and you sink
for the third time,
ready to rise alone
on the other side.
I reach out for you
and pull and pull
until your skin tears
from the bones of elbow,
arm, wrist, and fingers.
How it hangs empty,
loose. A glove
too large
for my hand.
Notes:
This poem was previously published in Love’s Instruments (Tia Chucha Press, 1995) and is part of the portfolio “Melvin Dixon: I’ll Be Somewhere Listening for My Name.” © Melvin Dixon and used with permission of the author’s estate. You can read the rest of the portfolio in the April 2024 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(April 2024)