Adam Scheffler

Drink Me, says his death.
Keep Your Head Down,
says her death. Known now through
stress-lines engraved on the brows
of three living daughters all just
over five foot tall and thirty years later.

My living grandparents trace
lineage back to Romania, shtetl,
Palestine, Abraham.

My other grandparents like a lopped limb,
a clearing, a nuptial flush of June
grasses, where they hold each other,      
bells ringing, listening to the sound
like a gunshot a long way off.