The Butterscotch in a Batch of Mints

By Alise Adornato

The creases and lines outlining the map of her face clenched and released
My grandmother, the sole vivid image, laughed
Like a banchee in the wild
Like the helium released from a filled-balloon
Her days of staying afloat were fleeting
The chance meeting
A greeting come too late
The lush park had become a shopping mall
My elementary school, a bank
But she had remained unmaimed
Cheering and celebrating another year
Another year for someone that remains in obscurity
Another year sitting around a glass table circa 1975
But instead of lasagna there is pizza
The melodies of the tarantella replaced by intruding pop
But my grandmother’s laugh will never change
It will always be the butterscotch in a batch of mints