Driving Home at Night with My Children After Their Grandfather’s Funeral

See how the moon follows us?
That’s Grandpa’s face in the sky.
It smiles; so, he’s still the same.
Sleep. The way home’s always
shorter than the way you came.

Shh …  the car’s a steel measure
that swallows the road like a tape;
and we’ll all live twice as long
as it takes the snail to go
around the world on its crumpled skate.

Notes:

“Driving Home at Night with My Children After Their Grandfather’s Funeral” was originally published in The Wild Olive Tree (West Coast Poetry Review, 1979) and is reprinted with permission of  Daniel Meyers. For more information about Bert Meyers, please visit bertmeyers.com

This poem is part of the portfolio “Bert Meyers: A Gardener in Paradise.” Read the rest of the portfolio in the January 2023 issue of Poetry.

Source: Poetry (January 2023)