old crow of a woman in bonnet, sifting through the dump
salvaging those parts of the world
neither useless nor useful
she would be hours in the sweatlodge
come out naked and brilliant in the sun
steam rising off her body in winter
like slow explosion of horses
she braided my sister's hair with hands that smelled of deep
roots buried in the earth
she told me old stories
how time never mattered
when she died
they gave me her clock
"Grandmother" by Sherman Alexie, from The Business of Fancy Dancing. © Hanging Loose Press, 1992.
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