Peter Jay Shippy

She found the body

Hanging off a pear tree


When I came across Gram

She had already cinched


Her own belt around

Her own brown neck


And was shimmying

Out on the limb


To join her son

As was our custom if


The tree had been a Bosc

But this was a Bartlett


When I pointed that out

We both laughed


And took a pull

From my flask then spit


Vodka on the trunk

And set the tree on fire


Also our way and

As we walked home


She mumbled son

Of a bitch son of a bitch


And we both laughed

Also our way