Life

[rowens]

When airplanes went over,
my grandma used to tell me it was the sound of the sky yawning;
that's why sometimes you hear it
when you don't see no planes around.

I said, Well, Grandma,
what does an airplane sound like?
She shook her head and smiled like I shoulda known better
and said, You know, I don't think them things
have made a noise as far back as I can remember.

One night me and Wayne was out by the tall hedges
that separated the house from the store,
we heard a plane going by but didn't see no lights from one.
I reckon the night sky's done got tired, Wayne said.

My grandma also used to say if you wake up in a dark room
and you can't tell if your head's facing north or south,
all you gotta do is lay on your back and look straight up;
if you see some light after a while,
God's still with you.
But if it stays dark for too long,
you know you ain't in His house no more.

I said, Dang, Grandma, that's harsh.
So she smacked Josh,
my cousin,
since he was the closest thing to her.

[justcloudy]

I like that grandma! (And love the poem.)

Did Josh pass on the smack once out of her eyesight?

[rowens]

Whatever happens outside the margins of this poem doesn't exist. These people are doomed to repeat the same thoughts, words and actions as long as this poem is around.

[justcloudy]

Well that's a sad way to think about it.

[rowens]

Josh was the closest thing to her in the whole world, yet she smacked him around like that.