1959

by Robbi Nester

One hand on the bannister,

at six, I didn’t know

my grandfather,

in faraway South Africa,

would never visit again.

my mother held an open

aerogram, cried out,

“He’s gone!”

She wept, and I couldn’t

understand why.

He had arrived

two years ago

with his bags full of gifts—

a short, round man

clutching a giant doll,

with China-blue eyes—

for me!

In his pockets, he carried

two unset diamonds

for my mother.

He said the doll distracted

the customs people,

kept them from asking

what he had in his pockets.

My mother asked,

“Why aren’t you crying?”

“He was your grandfather!”

her white face hurt and angry.

I tried to squeeze a few

hot tears out of the corners

of my eyes, imagining

the saddest things I could,

but no tears came.

For me, he was already gone.

I couldn’t fathom

words like “never”

or “forever.” So I didn’t cry,

though my mother’s tears

scared me, and her red

mouth, open as a wound.

* * * * *

"1959" is part of Robbi Nesters new collection Narrow Bridge (Main Street Rag, 2019).

Robbi Nester is the author of four books of poetry: a chapbook, Balance (White Violet, 2012), and three collections, including A Likely Story (Moon Tide, 2014); Other-Wise (Kelsay, 2017); and Narrow Bridge (Main Street Rag, 2019). She has also edited two anthologies—The Liberal Media Made Me Do It! (Nine Toes, 2014) and an Ekphrastic e-book, Over the Moon: Birds, Beasts, and Trees--celebrating the photography of Beth Moon (published as an issue of Poemeleon Poetry Journal).