Grandmother

Aileen Santos

I remember talcum powder and tiger balm
the raised mole on her left hand.

I remember wrinkles
and long withered fingers
a soothsayer
secret keeper
comforting dissonance.

I remember my face
in her soap scented hair
pinched purple skin
when she was not there

dystopian fragments
of hard silver buckles

the balm on my bruises
the kiss on my temple.