Sarah Rosenblatt - Poetry

    Sentry On Downer
    
    Shoppers pass the grocery.
    Each one lives in her own shoes.
    
    My grandmother used to wander this street 
    in her red coat,  
    unsure of where she was,  
    fearful someone might notice.
    
    She never admitted to vulnerability, 
    breathing it in
    
    and compressing it.
    
    When she sleeps
    the wind insists
    on rounding off her features.