Grandfather
Melissa Felix

I do not hate my grandfather,
I Loathe him.

I think of the way he used to kiss my
neck instead of my cheek.
I can only imagine how my mother felt when he
un-tucked her bed sheets every night.

If my mother had her way, I’d never have met him.
But for my grandmother, my fool of a grandmother,
I knew my grandfather. I do not hate my grandmother;
I pitied her, until she died.

Occasionally he calls the house to say
“You’re mother won’t talk to me, but I still love her,”
or “I know you’ve heard bad things, but I never
once touched your mom or the others like that.”

He tells me he loves me. I want to say
Fuck you! I don’t love you. No one loves you!
Why don’t you just kill yourself?
But I just say “Okay.”

Some say I should forgive him
because that is what Jesus would do.
The day I forgive my grandfather is the day I lose
my sense of morality.