Granny

She no longer recognised our faces,

She who used to have a tremendous memory;

She smelt of ammonia and faeces,

She who used to wear perfume like Givenchy.

It had started not long after her birthday,

It had gone downhill quite rapidly since then.

It made her look for words and the time of day,

It made her lose her temper now and again.

She had battled cancer for ten years but it's this –

This disease which was to have the best of her;

She had lived through so many wars and crises

It was hard to imagine a world without her.

It took over before the weekend started.

She was weak, cold to the touch, restless, in pain.

She knew, though. So she pointed, and instructed:

Decoction of hemlock, hellebore, and wolf's bane.

It was the last middle finger from a proud woman.

She might have held onto that idea all along,

Even to stay the bitterness with a dash of lemon.

She shivered, muttered what we thought was an old song,

Then lay motionless. No whimper to say she was gone,

Thus reminding us what it was to be human.