My Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather Who…

Probably one of those understated pieces. Simple silver. No ring

of laurels surrounding an emperor or an eagle

catching prey in its claws. No hours marked

by birthstones. I like to believe he cared

about showing his worth through the transitive properties

of the world. When the parties made it to the third hour

or the third sweating glass of gin and someone asked for the time,

my great-great-great-great-grandfather

would say, “Well, it looks like it’s time

for you to have your own watch” and then set

an appointment for his new friend to visit

his store on Monroe Street.

The watch didn’t mean he was important,

but he would tell anyone who asked that he was

only interested in watches because his railroad colleagues figured out time

zones for the country. It’s about efficiency,

he’d tell his new friend. He’d teach them about the need

for standards and order in a world crying

for standards and order. Montgomery needed

gas lights, so he brought gas lights to Montgomery.

Fillmore needed a room, so he gave Fillmore a room.

Time was valuable, so a man should have it

in his pocket at all times. And the new

friend would ask about the choice of silver over gold,

and my great-great-great-great-grandfather would grudgingly concede

that he loved silver more than gold

since a man who loves silver sounds like a man who can’t be just

bought with a loaded number. What about Judas

being paid in 30 pieces of gold; wouldn’t that do

something to the story? Even

if 30 pieces of silver and 30 pieces of gold hold no

difference to the man who can’t count

his wealth in silver or gold. But my ancestor could

never be a Judas. He was loyal

to all his loves: silver and slaves and the second

between a trap set and a trap sprung. His most precious

things never made a sound: a hunter

case wound to perfection,

a servile slave, a room shushed

by the gleam of an unspoiled gem.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2021)