top of page

Grandmother's Red Chair

Updated: Nov 5, 2019

by Jake Lord '19

Grandmother’s red chair lingers In the living room, and A duster rests on its arm – Forgetting to dust years ago. . This wine whispers denial; Its bottles line her spice drawer — She had vied for thyme but grabbed merlot. Tired, retired, she resides to her chair. . This ominous mass mildews me Like a fifty year old Oak waiting to grow and You’ve truncated my sixty year pain and You’ve ruined my life she says and I’d rather collapse into my chair than be here, Jeanette says. . Her wisdom has waned like the ennui flavor Of old porridge. The taste of old platitudes once Comforted but now numb like raw ginger; I wish for hugging matriarchal wisdom – lost From a forgetful red throne.


Recent Posts

See All

Anonymous / 12 That last day I walked those halls, I memorized, in my head, every sight and smell -- Stored it like a sacred star. And saw those vested men from afar As they began to crush and fell Th

Hannah Myers / 10 (BARE staff) I walk into the Ohio feather-leafed forest, my feet crackling with each step, the dead bodies of old green lying on top of moist-gut soil ready to be decomposed into dir

Jack Son / 12 The shape of water geometric automation of fluid vested upon all but itself unveils workings of gaia beneath and reflects essence unseen Geometric fabric of tao threads fates of predeter

bottom of page