I bent over my notebook at the table, trying to add in the mirror-script, the reversed versions of each line in R ——’s poem. It wasn’t easy, and I needed to keep erasing. Grandmother had her chin against her chest, and I thought she was asleep. But suddenly, she sprang up and hurried to the bookcase. At her request, I brought the lamp closer. Running her fingers over the spines of books on the bottom shelf, she pulled out a volume of medium size with a dark blue cover. Then she straightened, seized her well-worn dictionary, and carried both books back to her chair. Unceremoniously, she turned the dial and clicked off the radio just in the middle of a crescendo. “What is it?” I asked in mounting excitement. “Give me a minute.” As she began flipping through the blue book, she said, “Read me that poem aloud.” I did so—and then a second time, when she asked me to.
What do You think about A Green And Ancient Light?
