she loved lincoln

her red shawl was knit
by candle light years ago
the same night he died
from one mean head shot
"Booth sucked,
she told me."

she's born in ragtime
a flopper, a gin drinker
a mean pretty girl
in a too-short off-white dress
"gimme another,"
she slurred tenderly

"Booth sucked,"
as she puked
again into the toilet

I hung her red shawl
in the front hall coat closet
on a wood hanger
"Gramma, that's old news"
I tried to calm her down,
"Before you were born."

"Booth sucks" she passed out
and I tucked her in.