80

 
eve of his 80th
whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on
on the stereo and in his hand
and so much silence….

glimmer of recognition
raises my hopes
then –
“how are your parents?”
and the heaviness lands again in my gut

how many conversations have I dismissed,
forgotten, in this lifetime?
now each phrase is precious
maybe the last

so many years distant by choice or duty
we cling to atrophied connections
I’m struggling to hold onto his essence
the present soul beneath absent words

love can be so silent