APPARITION

Comes my Grandfather Joe --

The artificer, the changeling,

Small and dapper and deft 

Easy to lose in a family 

Of large, looseboned folk.

I should recall his voice?

Soft then; unaccented, 

His words always clear

But not many. He thought

Three sentences ahead

So sometimes answered

Things you hadn't said.

He was the runt, the youngest 

The one born in America.

Not a coward but wary,

Light on his feet. Shout "Run!"

And he'd be off, gone

As if he'd never been there 

(Had been in a way not there) 

He was patient

As a steel spring. A bit twisted 

Not a criminal but always 

Looking for an edge. 

When he broke his brothers 

And sisters mended him

Kindly folk, but not skilled.

If he'd stayed in the Army

He'd have been the sergeant 

Who doesn't much like his men

But sullenly keeps them alive

By tricks and turns and something 

Quite similar to magic.