Perhaps you honored their memory
as you used a name from each
unknown grandfather, both dead
long before my birth,

Each name drawing significance
virtually from the grave,
each call through the neighborhood
recalling those who had come before,
revered fathers of each parent,
enigmas to the child raised
to bear their names,
to bear their legacies.

Connections to those men don’t exist, though.
after all, you spoke little of them
later in life, shared no stories,
even chose to call me by another name,
sonny, a name of no significance.