I Still See Grandmother Wave

I STILL SEE GRANDMOTHER WAVE

Her curtains always yellow
even in winter – she had to
see through them, through
glass – she had to know
everything going on below,
on Seneca Street – when
the street lamps turned on
and Father wasn’t inside –
that’s when buckets of
water were tossed from her
window with yellow curtains
over his head.

Her radiator hissed – and
her thumb curled – way back
and she would lick it as she
turned each page of her bible.
But, it was me – me sitting in
front of that radiator begging
for cookies from her cookie
jar – she continued to pray
aloud and still licked her thumb.

Today, I wish you were still
sitting, facing that window, still
breathing – still telling me to
read “John” from the “New
Testament.”

Instead, everything changed.
I seldom walk up the stairway –
I seldom gaze up to the window –
but every now and then –
I still see Grandmother wave.

Nancy Duci Denofio
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