Real

 

Science says other people see

with their eyes closed. Remember

Grandma’s house with the paint

peeling. See the green shingles.

See the stump of the tree (apricot)

she planted when I was born.

I only see in dreams.

 

Sometimes I can hear, which science

says others don’t. Music winds

like birdsong through ears and mind

and memory    the chords   I struck

on a piano    long since kindling

are playing now     I am 8 years old.

When you die

will I still hear your voice?

The soundtrack to these 40 years?

Will your face more familiar than my own

at least haunt my dreams?

 

How much of you will fade

when the tympani of breath & heart

cease? How will I reanimate this hour

you in the kitchen   me at my desk

and how will I know you were real

when I cannot see you…