today is the 63rd anniversary of my father’s birth. tonight i re-publish this work in his memory. it was originally published in my chapbook my grandmother’s posture in 1996.

alright

sometimes when I’m alone
i hear your voice
my tears turn 
temporarily to laughter

sorrows, i forget
sometimes, when the only company available
are the constellations
i see you silhouette
beside the sycamore

the games you played
tickled my spirit &
remembrance
becomes all

sometimes, when i am barefoot &
content with the silence aloneness makes
i hear your laugh
the stories of your yesterday
breed my tomorrow &
i think that 
is good

sometimes, when you aren’t here
i listen to the crickets
& think i’m alright.