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Sierra

by Izabela Kurp

Color Pencils 18” x 16”

Page 13
Page 14

Page 13

Page 14

I tossed the kitty into the air.

My grandfather, cooing, “Oh no, no no,”

the cat dropping

into my arms like a football.

It looked like Figgy who slept on top of my head
those nights I wedged between my parents
watching shadows scratch the walls

like daddy longlegs.

 

Tata said, “Don’t hurt the cat!”

and I laughed,

“It isn’t real!” 

I pulled my grandfather from the sinking chair cushion;
he grunted like the starter turning over and over

in his old Saturn until it jerked forward
and drove to our house every Thursday.

 

I should have learned more Spanish.

​

-

​

These children, funny and full of life,
new words every day;

I strain to catch each syllable, falling
como una naranja

before they mature.

 

Silly, this one, like her father;

she giggles the way all children do
and smiles like a little devil,
clutching un peluche, a kitty cat,
to her chest,

before throwing it high in the air.

 

I rise, my old bones creaking

my palm firm against the chair cushions;
she pulls with all her strength

to get her abuelo standing,

wilting with la vejez as she grows.

Thursdays After School
with My Grandfather -
Jueves con las jóvenes

© 2016 Point of View Magazine | Harper College | 1200 West Algonquin Road, Palatine, Illinois 60067. All rights reserved.

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