the old man, you remember him
with the graying hair and bones
that remembered being tall?

he’s gone, I know, he was gone
long before he was gone, but
now it’s real. real as a dead dog

on the doorstep wanting
to come in from the cold
instead getting buried under a rock
behind the shed.

when i look in the mirror I see him
more than I see myself,
there’s no asking about the hair

even if there was asking,
there’s no denying the eyes
are fading quickly now too.