Little love, I see your face, so like your grandfather’s.

There is the obvious – his July-lion’s mane
tamed to your September copper.

But me in the middle, part him, part you,
I was always too distracted by laundry, homework,
things that keep a family beating,
to notice how similar you were until his heart had stopped.

How similar the lines of your eyes, your upper lip,
your nose powdered by those same freckles.

I see your small face as you talk
to relatives after the funeral.
Red hair swinging past your shoulders,
framing everything.


Claire Walker’s most recent publications are Collision (Against the Grain Poetry Press, 2019) and Hierarchy of Needs: A Retelling (V. Press, 2020 – co-authored with Charley Barnes.)  She is co-editor of Atrium poetry webzine. Website: https://clairewalkerpoetry.com/