I see no reason not to repost my Thanksgiving poem yet again: for my brothers: Johnny, George, & Robert, and for Rita all on the other side of the world

there are voices calling my name
on the other side of the world
an empty chair
a glass not filled with wine
dark meat with gravy
stuffing with mushrooms
and Robert’s famous meatballs and gravy
hot and sweet sausage
broccoli with garlic, lemon and oil
Johnny bought blueberry pie
only I’m not getting a piece
’cause I’m over here
on the other side of the world
quietly finishing a bottle of wine
trying not to think of your voice
the sorrow in the air
fresh flowers don’t quite kill the smell
of disappointment
another year gone by
that empty chair
that bottle of wine unopened
ice cream melting on a plate
Al Martino singing love songs
George serving salad
and you sliding food onto my plate
the cat under the table
my hand reaching across
grabbing nothing
grabbing air
on the other side
of the world

3am in the morning

the distance perhaps
in miles in years
cause these memories
both real and imagined
to co-mingle
in the mind
yet the cat
gently calmly anchoring
an arm a heart
in the present
in this ancient city
both now call