Photographs of this man
who used words like bedecked
and veranda and stood on one
were what we did on Sundays,
mostly. That and eat.
Sometimes someone would
maybe crawl out into the forest
and lie among the sodden rotten leaves
of late October. Sometimes.
And there were others, others
who were usually half-hidden behind
lamp-shades, pushed up against the frame,
some awkward boys or bored girls,
And that was when Uncle said,
"If only I'd died with your father."