“I” gone

headstones in old cemeteries

tell stories in names, dates and epithets

we can conjure but never be sure

loved ones may never die so long

as we live in someone’s memory

but that means “we,”  “I” will disappear

“I” will cease to exist, even in memory

but was I not part of something vast

beyond my comprehension?

was  “I” not merely a trickle in a brook

the merged into a stream  that joined

a mighty river to the sea?

longing

 remembered moments

of longing to be held close

but he backed away

banister to wisdom

at the head of the flight of steep stairs
i climb up and on, my right foot dangling
fifteen feet over the narrow hallway below

i close my eyes, afraid, but determined

i’ve seen my uncles and my older sister do this

but i wouldn’t try when they could watch

my palms are slippery as i try to grip

the dark, polished wood

slowly i ease my near-prehensile toes

from around the uprights

and let my bum first begin to move

i lift my left foot from its final anchor

the slide begins in earnest, balled red-plaid dress

and white cotton panties against the lacquered railing

i clutch at but cannot grasp the smooth, wide rail

i swoosh faster and faster, gritting baby teeth

to keep from screaming

a gasp escapes my mouth as i descend

but grandma doesn’t hear me until

i’ve reached the round, decorative curl-end post

swished near sideways off it and clattered to the wooden floor

i’m not crying, exactly, but mama would have rushed to pick me up

and coo sweet assurances

but grandma, mother of three boys, stands arms akimbo

come over here, she says, and I’ll pick you up

I’d have come to you but I have a bone in my leg

i stagger up, blinking, to check that i’m okay

next time, don’t come down so fast, she says over her shoulder

as she returns to the kitchen

i feel so bad about that bone in her leg

i hold onto the banister as I look back up its height

so much to learn