Father’s Blue Shirt

Mama kept it in the cedar box
Sleeves rolled twice, one button gone
Father's blue shirt
Tonight I put it on

Cousins stringing bulbs above the yard
Auntie warming stew beside the wall
Somebody tunes the mbira near the doorway
Children chase a tyre past the cars
Mama says, That shirt still needs a button
Finds the old tin underneath her bed
Inside the pocket: one bus ticket
A tiny screw and half a tailor's thread
Sunlight soap still hiding in the cotton
Though twelve long months have crossed the room
I roll the sleeves the way he always rolled them
And step outside before I change my mind

Don't stand still when his song begins
Don't make memory wear only black
If the rhythm brings his laugh into the yard
Let the whole family answer back

Father's blue shirt, sleeves rolled high
Mbira in the yard, evening in the sky
I moved one shoulder, Mama covered her mouth
Father's blue shirt brought his laughter out

Blue shirt
Still dancing
One button gone
Still strong
Turn that shoulder one more time
Bring his laughter out

My nephew asks why everybody's crying
When nobody has played a sad song yet
I say, Your grandpa missed the beat on purpose
Then blamed the drummer with a serious face
The family laughs before I finish
Uncle points: That was exactly him
I try the awkward double shoulder
Left too late and right too quick
Mama drops the needle in her lap
Says, He did that move the day we met
Now every child demands a lesson
And grief makes room for something else

Don't stand still when his song begins
Don't make memory wear only black
If the rhythm brings his laugh into the yard
Let the whole family answer back

Father's blue shirt, sleeves rolled high
Mbira in the yard, evening in the sky
I moved one shoulder, Mama covered her mouth
Father's blue shirt brought his laughter out

Roll two sleeves
Twice
Miss one beat
On purpose
Left shoulder late
Late
Right shoulder quick
Quick
Straight face first
Serious
Then laugh loud
That's him
Blue shirt turn
Turn
Bring him out

I thought inheritance was land
A surname, tools, a photograph
But some things pass through how we stand
How we tease, how badly we dance
Mama sews the missing button slowly
You do not have to become your father
Then smiles and pulls the collar straight
But you don't have to lose him either
The shirt is only cloth
The laughter is what fits

Father's blue shirt, sleeves rolled high
Mbira in the yard, stars entering the sky
I moved one shoulder, every child joined in
Father's blue shirt let the whole house grin
Not everything we bury stays beneath the ground
Sometimes love returns as one familiar sound

Bulbs go dark above the yard
Mama folds the shirt but leaves the sleeves rolled
One new button, one old thread
His bad dance living in our feet
Father's blue shirt