Two poems for Robb

I visited with my grandfather in the last few days of his life

one.

I wonder what you saw, when you raised your hand and reached out, eyes unfocused, or perhaps trained on something invisible between the cream colored cabinets and the peaking grey ocean out the window. Like you were parting the air itself with age-softened fingertips. A curtain the rest of us couldn’t peer through. The heart tattoo on your hand bled out into your wrinkled skin - love expanding. Your mouth opened small and dry, your whisper was lost in the hum of a fan. I didn’t notice I was crying until your attention turned to me, and you used that pained and prophetic motion to wipe the tear from my cheek. 

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two.

I will look for you in forests, on balancing stumps, in rocks skipped. 
In days overcast, in the mist that clings to my hair like dew on grass. 
In my hands, which I don’t share with you, but that you loved despite. 
In my hands, which once held yours.