My fancy grandma

A Name for All

BY HART CRANE

Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page
And still wing on, untarnished of the name
We pinion to your bodies to assuage
Our envy of your freedom—we must maim

Because we are usurpers, and chagrined—
And take the wing and scar it in the hand.
Names we have, even, to clap on the wind;
But we must die, as you, to understand.

I dreamed that all men dropped their names, and sang
As only they can praise, who build their days
With fin and hoof, with wing and sweetened fang
Struck free and holy in one Name always.

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My grandma is gone. It isn't completely real yet. I wear her necklace that I tell myself still smells like her. I have her picture on her built in bookshelves that she wanted back. She still surrounds me even after she has gone. "Oh precious angel, you know I love you."