If Uncle Ernie
had not gone off to war before I was four

If he had not loved movies, or sat
in that seat in that theatre when on leave

Where the bomb came through the roof
and through the floor
and killed a few
and then blew up
and killed some more

He’d have been here handsome and bright
helping my father with the ranchers load
and telling stories to my delight

Marrying and making me
cousins in the night