My grandma,
still alive,
tells stories of her life.

In some, she shouts;
in others, she laughs—
but always keeping
her eerie head,
with sharp, loose teeth.

My grandma brings me to bed
with haunting visions.
"Grandma, do you also see
the moving monster in the corner?"

Grandma chuckles, denying.

And years later,
my grandma’s voice howls through the night,
telling stories of her life.

For the dead tell stories,
even unalive.