Arts + Scene » Poetry

Nana's Smile

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Rose to the surface
From some foreign land,
Laced with frightful smells
And an army of organisms
Ready to take residence.

She was lucky to be alive.

Her teeth were as unruly
As her Irish charm,
Intent on biting down
On everything farmed,
Or stored for the winter.

She missed nothing.

We spent many years
Visiting in her living room,
My kids bouncing reluctantly
Just above the quilt blanket
That never quite warmed her.

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