|they underestimate her
Grandma's thoughts won't leave me;
my blanket is too well tread.
Don't believe in anything said in spirit of superstition,
but angels, demons, home are real.
She thinks in concrete sentences;
her meniscus of thought reaches just past too much.
They underestimate her.
They think her a bit brash.
She holds me too long, doesn't pretend to hide the matter.
She collects my work.
I believe in the spirit of old woman vigor,
of the unconquerable dying out.