grandma grace

there is no need
to distill this narrative
(package this
poem) because
today played out
in real time

it all happened
so fast

teenagers releasing
their wiggles
a coach teaching

“check-in” “move
to the open space”

and there she was
lying on the track surroun
ding our practice field
flat without movement

speaking korean she knew
she was hurt and so did we as
well as the families riding running
wondering what happened

my wrists she claimed softly
in my native tongue we all saw
it wasn’t normal but I asked
about arthritis anyways

in her seventies it was not an
odd question but

lifting her frail hundred-pound
teenage-like body to an upright
position then
to her feet and
over to a seat
we sat for a bit
and I asked if
there was anyone
i can call

no. no. at church
in costa mesa. she spoke softly. offering her a ride i

an obstacle course
first the patience-testing
ten-minute walk sit here while I fetch the car in the other lot sprinting around the baseball field like a relay
I reached to the door handle to
pass the baton as 91.5 KUSC flicked on classical
passenger chair raised from lounge
to medical carrier we headed
north on state college.

we exchanged names.
everything’s gonna
be ok myung. thank you