My Grandmothers Eyes

My Grandmother died today
she didn't love me.
The last time we looked at each other, her old watery eyes at mine, defiant
her eyes indifferent, no, irritated

We sat side by side in the taxi,
"just here please on the left"
I was merry with celebration and wine.
A dutiful, "goodbye Nanny, nice to see you"
My grandmother claps a cold hand on my knee,
"nice to see you too Paula, you always used to be such a nasty piece of work."

I think I spoke about plums
I don't even like them, at all.
something to fill the moment that the two of us are alone.
There was a plumb on the windowsill
it was on the turn.
Suddenly I am a child again, she doesn't love me, she doesn't like me, she doesn't care if I know it.
I ramble on about plums
her eyes fixed on me
always surprised I have a voice
always surprised at my audacity.

The toilet flushes from next door, mum walks back in the room,
I can see she has tried to be quick.
My Grandmother's eyes, quickly away
She would never look at me again with those watery eyes
indifferent, no, irritated.