Grandma.

Just before you

croaked,

you gurgled:

eyes wide,

with whites

white

and pupils tight

you looked like

something

out of this world:

a ghost

experiencing

itself.

Your face was contorted,

and your stomach was distended,

and your legs were puffy

like something
unsavoury -

I feel dispeptic

just recollecting it.

When you passed,

I held

my father

and pointed at the clouds.

'Look, dad,

it's her up there: 

can you see her?'

From 

that moment on

I knew

I'd 

never

see you again.