i have more to say to you, grampa.

i’m sorry for crying in that stupid army vest, sorry

for defending carnegie.

i just saw this thing on the history channel;

i didn’t know what i was talking about.

i hope other things made you proud, a little,

like that i call my father “da.”

you know, kids tormented me for that, but i never stopped.

because i know you rubbed his head when he bumped it, know

you told him to always skate his hardest 

to the bench at the end

of a shift.

It’s been hard, grampa, I’m not going to lie,

but fuck I loved the ice, loved going over the boards, loved

the sound of the pond breaking underneath me

and i can hear you.