Gingerbread House Lit Mag

The Granddaughter Speaks

She knew the mushrooms that were safe,
where to find young greens in March,
salves to heal the brown eyes of a calf.
She called a hummingbird to the porch
by magic—not in the honeyed spoon she’d extend
but in the perfect stillness of the hand.

She died long before it was time
for me to learn of other things they said
she knew—to make a neighbor’s horse go lame,
or his son, they said; how to hide the dead
fishlet from a girl she’d helped; to read
in fire and stars things better left unknown, they said.

Mary Ann Ramey

Mary Ann Ramey has a B.A. from the University of Pittsburgh and an M.A. from Columbia University, both in English, aswell as graduate degrees in library science and law. She has worked as a librarian, a lawyer, and finally a member of L’Arche, a faith community which creates homes for adults with intellectual disabilities, and is now retired.

Artwork: Natalia Drepina, Autumn Treasures.

This entry was published on May 31, 2019 at 12:03 am and is filed under 36 (May 2019), Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.
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