Grandma And Her Monkey
In the whimsical drawers of a sad music box,
by MARINA GIPPS
there was a picture with burnt brown edges, now missing.
Abuela held a sceptre where her monkey perched.
She was four years old-poor, adamant queen
On the coast of Spain where monkeys were no rarity.
At tea-time I asked her about the sceptre.
She told me the monkey had teeth,
Her fat fingers were bananas.
I remember her thick skin peeling.