Grandson
Oliver Nisbet, born Seattle, 31.8.2010
I’ve seen you just in photographs,
Skype images. Tracing you, I wonder
at your crinkled lineaments unfolding.
Born an American, you’ll maybe hear
one day that, when I was two months
old, we had a world at war.
Now I am in the lee of a bluff
seniority, and a shaft of love and
recognition races like a charge of
adrenalin from history’s hideout
to your infancy and innocence in
Seattle’s bright fall. You just
go along nice and steady, grandson.
We are the future, you and I.
Robert Nisbet’s poems have appeared recently in magazines like The Frogmore Papers, The Interpreter’s House, Dream Catcher, The Journal, Prole, Scintilla and (in the USA) in The Camel Saloon, Hobo Camp Review and Main Street Rag.