lucky lost and found box, lucky.
got ribbons, striped, like WW II;
tarnished just right, he wore it.

sometimes in Review, when they spit
commands that shook the boots' spats.
shook the bones of ever soldier's back.

i can see him now, kepi cocked back
and to the side, his left, Gable
did that. he's my favorite Uncle.

he called me snake-hips, easy-money,
hot rod, jake-leg; anything but Charlie.
and i found laughter with every nickname.

he was forever with three-day whiskers,
and would wet a hook or his whistle;
made him no-mind; a grin took him there.

made me real, let me: Be. helping in ways
unseen to the normal human hand of nephews.
lifting me with a gentle humor, transcending.

ahhh, like my dad several years later,
Uncle Don made a decision: let me go.
take all the tubes. warm aubade awaits.

10/07/2008

Posted on 10/07/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan