Grandma, Mickey and Me

“It forks in and out a little like the tongue   

Of that frightened garter snake we caught   

At Cloverfield, you and me, Jenny   

So long ago.”  -- To the Muse, JAMES WRIGHT

Grandma killed many snakes

in her yard by the tavern

when she had to.

She could do anything

and she wasn’t afraid

of anything.

Or maybe she was

afraid of everything

and she’d just done

what she’d had to do.

She wore a cowgirl hat

with a feather roach clip

and earrings with sayings on them

like, “No” and “Well, maybe.”

She wore tight animal print pants,

read The National Enquirer

and swore the pig-boy was real.

Her little trailer sat

just off the road

and we would stay the night

with her when we were young

and play board and card games

and watch TV.

She would sneak over to the

tavern and bring us special treats

like fried tater tots

with ham and cheese inside.

I’d get to sleep

with Grandma

in her “big” bed

and my cousin would sleep

on the couch in front of her old TV,

the bust of JFK,

and her framed photo

of the son she never got to see.

During the day

we’d go off to explore,

especially the train tracks

where we’d imagine hobos

hitching rides.

She’d told me,

“the bees are out,

thicker than molasses.”

And to “be careful. 

Just be still

when they come near you.”

And I was,

except when

my cousin distracted me

by making me laugh

and I swatted my arm

and got my first bee sting.

It hurt

like H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS

but I knew Grandma

could take care of it.

We wove our way back

to Grandma’s where she

plucked a leaf from her

aloe vera plant and squeezed

some of the gel out onto the sting.

It was better than new.

She could do anything, like I said.

Pig-boy might have even been real.

You never know.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads 

A couple of days ago Grace presented us with the work of James Wright.  She said we can use a “line of verse as a jumping board” and to “feel free to explore where your muse takes you.”  My poem isn’t the same subject as the one of Wright’s that I springboarded from, but it’s where my muse lead.  I think I went autobiographical because of Wright’s simple family roots and of course, “Jenny.”