Inheritance

“How many things in your home
are older than you are?” my class asked
when I signed on to Zoom today.
I found four.

From a grandfather,
a “grandson clock,” lovingly restored.
From the opposite set of grandparents,
an antique illuminated music manuscript.

From a great-grandfather,
a banjo-guitar, heavy with suppressed volume.
From an equally great-grandfather,
The Pilgrim Hymnal, “copy for the pastor’s study.”

A ringing chime, a melodic line,
a powerful strum, and a choir become
the family thread that never dies
as generations harmonize.

Sisterly Things

National Siblings Day, 2019

18-petaled sunflowers.
Chocolate chip cookie dough, one spoonful set aside.
A PVC didgeridoo colored with Sharpies.
Christmas letters drenched in eggnog and laughter.
Mosquito bites.
Bells, ribbons, sticks and swords.
California-specific hiccups.
Spiced peach jam and sandWallaWallawiches.
Long hair. Also short hair.
Guitar string dreamcatchers.
Unevenly staggered toes.
Poetry like an elephant, a fish, and a bear.

Something Else

for Monee

The t-shirt you made me when I was six read:
“Grandma says… I’m something else.”
And so you did, frequently.
Now you, too, are “something else,”
and we visit you in the welcoming hilltop,
in the light movements of the bluebird,
in the support of the watchful oaks,
in the hawks that catch stillness on the wind,
in the sky that holds them, and holds us,
in each other, our songs, our tears and our laughter.
Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
but spirit springs to something else.

Guy

Guy! Guy!
Oh, what a guy!
So indescribably,
guilelessly high!
Argyle guises
disguise not his eyes
that scry out the kayaks
and kites in the sky!

Guy! Guy!
Oh, what a guy!
Guy dances down guidelines
that guide him to pies.
The choir, quiescent,
its guidance implies.

Guy! Guy!
Inscribe though I try,
I quietly cry that I
cannot describe
that kindly and, yes,
quite chimerical Guy!

Two Dactyls for a Hip

for my grandfather

Raggada Baggada
Leonard C. Boone had a
hip replaced yester—no,
Tuesday—at noon.

Good metallurgical
musculoskeletal
amplification’s a
definite boon!

For Cristie

My first
first cousin once removed,
should first be removed (at once!)
from my first first cousin proper.

In the meantime,
Cristie dreams longingly
of champagne corks
with happy childhoods.

They lead full, rich lives
and, go on, someday,
to have families of their own.