Ècorchè
Patricia Mickelberry
And what of these two
with their visible bones
and days pared down
who are yet my own grandmothers?
I could place one here, one there
like two old candles
so that I might then
perceive the infinity of them
remember my memories of them
perhaps fathom that I belong to them—
though I did not inherit
the ingénue eyes
or the wit or the poise—
for so often I forget
my own life’s debt
leaving them bereft
ècorchè
approaching death
approaching death
with their purses emptied
without their purses
with nothing to die for
but the love of my life.