I look at my grandfather,
after his question,
thinking about the
underlying question,
and hold my tongue.

If I answer,
if I say this thing
there is no unsaying it.
There is no back-step from this
so I say nothing.
It is in reserve, always,
ready to be sprung.

“I can get it for you now,
Grandpa,” I say, “or
I can take care of it
later tonight.
What do you prefer?”