Copyright © Pendas 2017
That hot summer in Maine
when I was fourteen, Granny
found herself beached
in her whale-boned corset
high above the shimmering shoreline,
our bags rugs drinks and clothes
washed up against her.
but was adamant, until the thermometer
nudged ninety and even she
had a refit to Bermuda shorts
and a top.
if she'd tip over without her stays --
but she trimmed herself up
to full four feet nine inches,
and breeze belling her loose blouse
straight with my little brother
through the shallows for crabbing,
naked toes wriggling beneath.
First published in Huffington Post, as a result of their global quest to find good poets over the age of 50. Collected in The Wilding Eye 2015.