Greg Loveseth
crystal springs reservoir
it's been raining, the reservoir is full,
I wonder if you smiled to it 24 years ago,
relieved that it was all about to end,
you sat on the deserted road,
not a quarter of a mile from where you raised my dad and five uncles,
killed the engine, looked over the water,
while the barrel whispered its wisdom
red stalactites dripping from the white vinyl ceiling
a couple years later Gram took me for my first-grade check-up,
I saw the portrait of you on the hospital wall,
when classmates and I spun around each other's wounds
I bragged that my grandpa had been a doctor,
photos me in your arms looking out over the Bay fade in a closet,
you were getting good at being a grandpa,
the way you turned me upside down
shook me by the ankles
to dislodge meat in my throat