to grandfather with love

i think sometimes of my grandfather

whose crumbling chest I still have

the one who travelled to hong kong

where i am told he was imprisoned 

my aunt tia ifa was born there, yes

and sometimes i think of the one 

long before him, who roamed the

forests that i know now as rivona

 yes the one who carved those bulls

on the rocky outcrop of pansaimol

and rarely of my grandad the ape 

indifferently screwing his mate

unthinking of his grandson who

would be only marginally more 

considerate in his technique

but i think often of my grandfather 

the fish  - who lay for a while 

exhausted on the ancient bank

 of the river sal before he resumed 

crawling towards the trees.
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