My Grandfather Joe was a changeling
Small and precise and wary and
Out of place in a large, vague family.
His brothers and sisters wore glasses;
He could count the feathers on a bird
Three miles away. (I started to write four
But his ghost shook its head at me).
He was not one to forget an injury
Over time he found that the grudges
His soft-natured kin couldn't keep
All came to live with him.
Through intermediaries
The demons who'd left him as a joke
Offered to take hin back but his family
Refused. He knew this because Lena,
His sister, told him during a chess match,
Hoping to put him off his game.
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