I am your grandchild
And so I do not take the knife 
From your hands
But I do watch closely

When I do take that knife
Will I no longer be your grandchild?
Or will I fall out of love
With the ugly romance
Of semantics?

I am your grandchild because
I do not take your knife
I am your grandchild because
You sound wise when you're not
I am your grandchild because
I recognize Songo tongue
I am your grandchild because
I've read Alexander McCall Smith
I am your grandchild because
I've loved Minnesota
I am your grandchild because 
You're proud of the adult Ive become
I am your grandchild because
Because I recognize birds by their songs
I am your grandchild because
I cry imagining your funeral
I am your grandchild because
I am smaller than you

But what do I do when you're shrinking?

I am your grandchild 
And I turn the stove off
Moments after you've turned it on
I help you put on your socks
I hold your hand as you walk
So as to never let you fall
I change the movie
Within the first five minutes
Six separate times
I make you four different lunches
For you to push around the plate
I never get too invested in the books
Lest they end up in your sock drawer

I cry in the bathroom
I think about your funeral
I take the knife out of your hand