Posts by matthewlafreniere

Dinner at Grandma’s

By on Nov 11, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

She blinked like mid-June nightfall and the world pruned, wobbled from her as if spilled from a raisin box. She blinked as if the earth and the heavens met in her eyelid’s crease, where beetles hum in reeds and lazy streetlights clack. She blinked as if she whisked the rippled sky orange with her fingers down her tired road to the sun’s festering embers. The same blink each time she handed me from boxes at her feet a chipped figurine, a glass-globed grasshopper, a framed picture of Grandpa. “These are for you.” She wrapped with her hands my hands around each trinket, skin wimpled as...

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