like my mother and her grandmother before
i paddle around the house
in soft-soled shoes
chasing ghosts from corners
with incense
they are such a disturbance my ghosts
they break my bric-a-brac and make
me forget to turn my heating stove

the children say you must come to live
with us       all my life i told them i’ve lived
with you      now i shall live with myself

the grandchildren say it’s disgraceful
you in this dark house with the curtains
pulled        snuff dripping from your chin
would they be happier if i smoked        cigarettes

i was very exquisite once       very small and well courted
some would say a beauty when my hair was plaited
and i was bustled up

my children wanted my life
and now they want my death

but i shall pad around my house
in my purple soft-soled shoes
i’m very happy now
it’s not so very neat, you know but it’s my
life

 = Joan Grant