My nani's home is no more
I have associated a perennial metaphor to your existence, "a service woman hanging" That's how I will choose to remember you The way people thought you rejoiced in self-erasure The way people thought you rejoiced while starving But, dear nani, there is no hunger that could distort all your life in a bottle As I immerse you away I know you would seek better horizons You'd be respected better And how I have come to this knowledge, yes about that I, your foul-mouthed granddaughter, have nothing bad to say I wish you could have known me like this As someone who doesn't even spare death I hope they ask you if you'd have eaten well I hope you would get angry and make everyone go berserk I saw your frozen face and no you didn't age at all You remain fixed like everything else around you Like the wood of the dressing table in your room I knocked on it hard I could hear the same lost innocence, same drowsy noons It mad...
