Easter Portrait, 1964 (Father to Son)
C. W. Emerson
I hold the snapshot
close to the lamp.
The print is faded, sepia-toned;
only hints of color remain.
You were three years old,
and dressed for Easter —
shorts and knee socks,
sport coat, cap.
You are handing me a crocus.
I bend to receive it.
I am your father, twenty-five,
and you, my eldest son.
Your grandmother’s garden
is glazed with light.
***
I look up
from my hospital bed,
hoping for a glimpse
of Carolina moon.
My night-sky rider,
sweet bantling boy:
how far have you come
for this vigil —
and what have I done
to deserve you so
near?
Issue 9, 2017, pg. 41