The Orange Room Review

Accessible poetry of substance


Grandson

by Jeff Flynn


I learned of your existence
the Monday
after Easter; 

slowly, like
waiting for a high tide
on a hot day,

your reality seeped in. 
Still, more rumor
than embryo,

your unexpected presence,
even to your expecting mother, 
was dubious.

Your first image,
really, a mere shadow,
made the word of you flesh to us. 



JEFF FLYNN is a librarian working in Boston. He lives with his family, his dogs, cat, ferrets and guinea pig in Quincy, Massachusetts.