11/5/2018 0 Comments Grandma,my AgogoPersonal Piece Lines across, lines up and down. She sits in a slouch, Agogo is a funny one. A butterfly patters, her eyelids flutter and she asks it when she will leave. Agogo, my mothers mother. Agogo the funny one.
Skin emaciated, once bold and like leather. She swats away invisible flies. Takes her top off during hot weather. Laughs when the dogs bark, like friends reminiscing on old times together. Wraps her hair with old clothes and tucks in old letters. Writings posted from gone loved ones. She still smiles though she can't see them. She still remembers the words barely faded, folded and greased against her temple. Agogo you are a funny one. A voice like a cherub, she always sings. Especially when her daughter and husband disagreed on things. She sings and sings, until all our ears start to ring. She sings and sings, until we are tranced into her feeling. Powerful like a dream she spreads her wings. Powerful like a dream she still visits me. My agogo, you are a funny one.
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