Grandmother

Red hat on red

hair. A woman

whose penchant is books

and arm candy. She wears

a white dress and holds a novel

to her nose when the garden

erupts.

Dirt and flowers

set on fire. Shrill wailing

all the way from Vietnam.

Earth steals her

bones and hair

and the words from her book.

It was romantic.

It had something about

birds.

Red hat on grass

blades. Gnarled roots and vines

curling around her

walking space.

Did she feel the sky

grab her throat

or the vines

creep around her lungs?

When the air

left, did she

try to breathe

anyway?