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,