grandmother

In this poem by Rebecca Lauren, a granddaughter recalls a missing family member.

Meredith Kunsa’s prose poem retells the memory of a Pentecostal service where her grandmother, “jabbering in a voice” she cannot understand, gives a command that both haunts Kunsa and compels her to conclude that there is no Jesus in her, that “I’m not who I think I am.”

“If you want anything, you’d better get down there now. By tonight everything will be gone. Leroy’s bringing his boys and a dumpster and they’re going to clean the whole place out.” Three days before my father alerted me to the impending blitzkrieg that would soon descend upon my grandmother’s house, Sandy and Chris (my aunt and […]