Christmas With Granddad Poem by Larry Houston

On my third beer
Sucking the blood from my knuckle,
I remember Christmas
From ‘86
The Nutcracker playing
dad carving turkey, thick slabs on the platter
the odor of pies and collards swirling around
granddad in the front seat of the old Pontiac,
scarf around his thin neck
David and I at the curb with the wheelchair
our breath clouding in the cold air
he was made of soap bubbles
and would burst if touched the wrong way
when he came to the table
we piled our plates full, drank coffee and tea, ate dessert
opened gifts
and he smiled
on the last Christmas he had