Inheritance  

Someone says, since I came back,

I go to funerals to see what is passed on

from generation to generation. The cocktail

of genes: some you recognize by

the nose, others it’s the hips, certain

people by a blend of secret ingredients.

O doubt, you footnote to family albums.

Stories are locked away when protagonists

come down from the earth. A secret love

changes the one who is left into an orphan,

for the person no longer exists who might with

a glance bring to light an ancient tale,

one summer evening on the balcony when the day,

a truck loaded high with heat,

was driving the sun home. The children were

playing hopscotch on the empty sidewalk.

Whenever they, barefoot, paused on the white-hot

rest area, they hopped from one foot to the other.

Instead of going home to his own folks he

unexpectedly turned and took her by the hand.