名人诗歌|Grandma Climbs

Grandma climbs a chair to yell at God for killing¹

her only husband whose only crime was forgetting

where he put things. Finally， God misplaced him. Everyone

in this house is a razor， a police radio， a bulging^{2 vein3.}

It's too late for any of us， Grandma says to the ceiling.

She believes we are chosen to be disgraced and perplexed^4.

She squints^{5 at anyone who treats her like a customer， including}

the toilet mirror， and twists her mouth into a deadly scheme.

Late at night I run at the mirror until I disappear. The day is over

before it begins， Grandma says， jerking the shade down over

its once rosy^{6 eye. She keeps her husband's teeth in a matchbox，}

in perfumed paraffin； his silk skullcap （with its orthodox stains）

in the icebox， behind Uncle's Jell-O aquarium^{7 of floating lowlifes.}

I know what Mrs. Einhorn said Mrs. Edels told Mr. Kook about us：

God save us from having one shirt， one eye， one child. I know

in order to survive. Grandma throws her shawl of exuberant^{8 birds}

over her bony shoulders and ladles up yet another chicken thigh⁹

out of the steaming broth^{10 of the infinite night sky.}