My Grandfather's House (High School)

We visited a two-story house on a hill,

Where my eyes traveled down some stone steps,

Trying to find her face.

In those summer nights,

My brothers and I chased bugs, blinking lights,

And captured them in our cupped hands,

Some chose to stay and some fought to fly away.

As we floated off to our dreams,

We watched them fly in coffee cans,

Their starlights would sink before dawn.

We sat by the calm waters of the creek,

And searched beneath the sand for shark’s teeth.

Some we found with parts and sharp ends missing;

Some we found all there.

As the orange and yellow sky slowly disappeared,

My brothers and I laid pennies on the tracks,

Except she was never there to follow us.

I see her: violin,

                   Piano,

                             Mirror,

                                       Shoes,

                                                           And still smelling perfume.

I don’t see her.

I make every closet fly open, and dig inside,

Like a dog trying to discover its bone.

I slip all the drawers off their latches,

Like a burglar’s job done.

I only find things,

Nothing comes to view.

Scraps of saved material she left

Rings and necklaces on top of bureaus, she left

The last locks of her golden-brown hair, she left.

The ancient scriptures of her favorite recipes, she left.

Her frozen smiles on pictures, she left.

I go down the steep steps, where all mice come to run.

Smelling tarnished tobacco and cloudy dust,

I’ve been in this museum before.

Familiar colors surround me:

         The green lily pads,

                   The white iris,

                                       The red and green pears,

                                                           On the walls.

This is where we watched old family movies.

This is where I found and wore her dresses.

Still I didn’t find her.

I am always covering my eyes,

Counting to ten

Always crying, “Ready or not, here I come.”