So Soon

Ryan Emmert

funny, the way memories quietly turn into

ghosts following behind us, the way the picture

album never captures the cheeky wit of his

grin, or the slow aging of his hair from brown to

gray to white — the volumes of him having died now

resonate louder than the bellow of his gut laugh,

the words of his we quote now carry very little

significance without the up-and-down inflections

of his voice, the charm of his wisdom and frustration

with the world, of his gentleness, his sunbaked skin,

and what is now nothing but a crowd of ghosts

following behind us,

the click of his two front teeth against a metal fork,

the way he winked at jokes that weren’t funny, the

creases in his eyelids when he said he didn’t mean

to leave us behind, so soon,