Grandfather
The attic's a mess
with moth-bitten coats and
the ugly, brown Depression
Furniture is ground up
and sprinkled
like ashes on the lake
My grandfather bought this
hat once. Wore it all day in a
day I never saw.
He died in a war to
be scattered
on this hardwood floor
A white door painted shut
to keep out
the smell and broken picture frames
He is sealed in now
Embalmed and pressed
In the same suit he wore to visit
the President. He is alive
in the pictures and books and
indefatigable clothes.
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