Challenging Poetry

Grampy

I never knew the man
my mother did. when I knew him,
he smelled of Chiclets and
coffee and had the biggest smile
that wrinkled his face into
a maze of laughter. when I knew
him, he would sit beside Mama
and they would slip peas
from plate to plate while the other
was distracted, innocence written
all over each face. when I knew him,
old age hid the engineer who
had kept his boat running—Erie to
Superior—behind shaking hands
and slippery memories. I don't remember
the man who, when I was a toddler,
crawled the floor with me. he died
when I was too far away
to make it to the funeral, more than
half my life ago, and when Mama tells
stories of who he was to her,
I listen and wish I knew
that man.

line count: 23
April 3: recall a person you did not know intimately or well