The Sunday Poem: “Caliber” by Jack Stewart

April 25th, 2026

The Sunday Poem is published weekly, and strives to include the poet reading their work.

Jack Stewart reads his poem at its conclusion.

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photo of Frankie Trumbauer via Wikimedia Commons

Caliber

I have never held a gun
Nor had one pointed at me,
But when I was 5, I heard
The phone ring, and when
I ran into the room, my mother
Turned to me and said,
“He’s dead,” my father’s father
Who had been cleaning
His hunting rifle when it
Went off, and it was ruled
An accident, though
No one can know, it’s possible
It was not, my grandfather
Who in his youth played
Saxophone so well
He could have been professional
And was voted Best Musician
Ahead of his roommate,
Bix Beiderbecke, with whom
He jumped the wall to go
Play in the jazz clubs
In Chicago but got caught
Coming back, and my
Grandfather promised he would
Never do it again so he
Wouldn’t be expelled, but Bix
Refused and was kicked out,
And was that why my
Grandfather never became
A professional, because he
Could back down and deny
Himself his joy, and why
He never played saxophone
In my lifetime, just piano,
Both of which he taught
Himself, but all I knew was
He was gone, and all I can
Imagine now is blood spreading
On the table or maybe
Dripping over the back of the chair
And onto the floor where
It pooled on the linoleum,
And he was thrown back
Or maybe to the side
Depending where the bullet struck,
His gray hair still slicked back,
Some black mixed with gray,
And I could see his
Glasses still on and picture
His eyes closed, though
They were probably
Still open when my grandmother
Found him, but really
The only thing I can say
I know for sure
Is my mother turned to me
With tears in her eyes
And said, “He’s dead.”

Listen to Jack Stewart read his poem

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Jack Stewart was educated at the University of Alabama and Emory University and was a Brittain Fellow at The Georgia Institute of Technology. His first book, No Reason, was published by the Poeima Poetry Series, and his work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Poetry, The American Literary Review, Image, Crannóg, and others.

Listen to the 1927 recording of Frank Trumbauer & His Orchestra performing the J. Russel Robinson/Con Conrad/Sam M. Lewis/Joe Young composition “Singing the Blues,” with Bix Beiderbecke (cornet); Frank Trumbauer (C melody saxophone); Jimmy Dorsey (clarinet/alto saxophone); Miff Mole (trombone; Paul Mertz (piano); Eddie Lang (guitar); Chauncey Morehouse (drums).