To the Grandmother that Never Cared

Author | Levi J. Mericle

My compassion for you is like a vodka stained liver
Like a quivering litter of puppies that heard their mother die to the stuttering sound of life while pushing out the lightning bolt of birth.

And at night I unearthed the moon again just to watch her die away a little more.
Like my compassion for you.

My compassion for you is like the sizzling bullets between our bones
As strategical stones align the footnotes of my bed like a riverbed of memories
I will not be remembering.

This December in my tone as cold as the telephone you couldn’t pick up to call me back.   
You lacked the certain pentacle of devotion like an ocean of family we should have been

but were not.

My heart still sunburnt by the thought of rays like happiness
a grandmother’s love should excrete.

But these concrete grave markers mark the territory of our story,

grandson and grandmother.

So yes…

I shudder to think of us.
Yet there was never much to be thought of.
You are just a face my eyes visited once every decade or so.

And as the snow piled like the memories I wish we had,

I can gladly say I’m happy.

Happy that my compassion for you has quickly diminished.

Because I was merely a storybook

-that you could never finish.


About the Author | Levi J. Mericle is a poet/spoken-word artist, lyricist and fiction writer from Tucumcari, N.M. Currently he is associated with the New Mexico State Poetry Society and gives readings from his work. His work has appeared in multiple anthologies and can be seen in many lit magazines and journals from over half a dozen countries such as, Black Heart Magazine, Mused, Flash Fiction Magazine, eFiction India, Awakenings Review, University of Madrid’s literary magazine and more.