Over the river and through the woods <br />To grandmother’s house we go ... <br /> <br /> <br />She waits behind the bolted door, <br />Her withered face in thirty pieces, <br />While blood runs thin, and memory, <br />An idiot without a name, <br />Recalls the snows of eighty years, <br />The daughter whose death was unexplained, <br />Darkness, blue veins, and broken leases. <br />Grandmother waits behind the door <br />(Sight dims beyond the curtain folds) <br />With her toothless smile and enuresis. <br /> <br /> <br />Over the river and through the woods <br />To grandmother’s house we go ...<br /><br />Weldon Kees<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-for-an-album-2/
