Prayers Of The Ederly

on the table near the window,
my grandmother keeps a prayer journal
and daily fills it like a ledger,

prayers on the left

answers on the right.

there is a kind of holy,
fervent mathematics
to her private worry---

calculations between
Please, God and

Thank You.

my hands are red and oily, the rag raw
as i begin polishing the last wooden thing.

on the left she asks God---
"...that my grandson find a job"

(the right still blank)

i close the book and dust beneath it,
and throw the rag in to wash.