Lost and Found

I found my grandmother in the freezer
gnawing on a roast I had bought on sale
but never had the heart to eat.
She still had all her teeth: something
she had always been proud of,
"I don't eat with my robot
hip" she used to reason.

There was no one left to impress,
but she kept going as though she were
going to fell the roast, dam a river,
raise a family and pass on her efforts.

I left her to the burn-
I'm not proud of it, but would you
have me take her out only to lose her
again; find her behind the dryer, knitting,
what I would guess is a sweater, from dust bunnies
or in the cabinet doing her best
to open a can with another can,
banging them together like clumsy lovers,
but I'll bet I'm afraid to find her
as I left her: ever on her way out,
biting her tongue like an undulating snake
with no discernible head.