Grandma’s Will

She talked of it unmoved, which made me think
infirmity and age had built rapport
with some late guest. A stain had marred her floor.
I sat there waiting vainly for the stink
upon her words, a fool upon the brink
pf counterfeit denial. Grandma bore
my cross demeanor. How could she ignore–?
I looked up just in time to catch a wink,
Then found my little stain again. She said,
“Pat gave me that damn vacuum. It goes back
to her!” I breathed, “Uh-huh,” below my breath.
She whispered, “If you hear me, nod your head.
…Just sittin’ there like some potato sack!”
I sighed, sat up. We squared away her death.