Nana

My grandmother is Forgetting.
She is old.
Holes in her brain are becoming
holes in her memories.

I am crying.

I remember walking
across the street to see her
every morning
before school.
Sometimes there were pancakes.

I don't want her to die.

We played card games at camp
and I begged her
for quarters
to play at the arcade
and slept next to her
And I remember the sounds
her big belly made.

She deserves all the beauty she never got.

I remember when she forgot
her fudge recipe.
And when she asked me
if that beautiful boy in there
was my son.

I think I will die
if she ever forgets
me.