After the funeral, they cleaned–
some drawers, the garage, he tended the bills.
he picked up his dad’s wallet.
He needed a card, but didn’t remember
which, as he opened the curve of it,
felt the skin,
the mold to his father
inside his right back pocket.
It wasn’t magic
as it might have been when
he was younger and his father was more,
but it was close.
After the cards
there were two old photographs,
black and white,
four children in 1950’s play clothes
and a couple, young, awkward, sweet
He is the youngest
of the four, and names his brothers, his sister
we guess at ages and turn
to his mother and dad
I know his mother died
when he was two
and after the four, there were two more
with another wife
what else could a man with children do?
He holds the pictures
loosely before they slip into
his wallet, his pocket
while he talks a little more about his father
holding on to the life he intended to have