My father died—maybe he's in Heaven
By Gale Acuff
and maybe not but he’s sure not here, we’re
just Mother and son now and photographs
of Father on her bedstead and my desk
at home of course and every morning he’s
looking at me the same way, he never
grows, which makes me think that I don’t, either,
Mother says that if I never grow then
I’d be dead but I think if I don’t I’d
live forever and look at Father—he
isn’t even alive the usual
way but still he’s pretty eternal in
black and white and 8 x 10 and to boot
he’s smiling, just barely, more silently
than any death. Sometimes he makes me laugh.
Gale Acuff has had hundreds of poems published in a dozen countries and is the author of three poetry collections. He has taught university English courses in the US, China, and Palestine, where he teaches at Arab American University.