Don’t Be Dry

My dry-eye Granny used to say:
if you can’t afford eye drops,
watch a friend die
and cry a lot

Heard she took
corn mash and a still
into the back acres, overgrown
in hiding leaves born from branching
sorrows treed by haggard stalking-cats

Granny purred at the moon
the night a jug of moonshine
killed her arthritis and
herself in her ancient treehouse
as blessed as an innocent child