Dad’s Dad

The same picture again
me on the old man’s lap
He’s smiling I’m probably two
probably smiling

You’re the only one he got to meet
There’s pride there—
in the way that you delivered a granddaughter
and sorrow— like how the only one
you almost named after him
(if we were not all girls)— never got the chance

You had sons later but maybe
it wasn’t as fresh then

I am imagining you with your camera
1996 in a hospital with your dying father
Plopping a child on his limp body
I wonder if you knew as you hit the shutter
just how many times you would look at the photo
Sometimes I do whenever I take a photo

I tell you I don’t remember
and you don’t hear me

holding the photo but gazing beyond it
using eyes to hear you better
He got to meet you