For My Father

For My Father

He threw away the corkscrew that night
And made the coffee in the
Morning
“Mom can’t take you to school today, you’re gonna have to take the bus, boys.
Gotta go. Late for work.”
The boys were fighting
Again
A steak knife, bent blade, lay wounded on the counter
His back hurts and his painkillers had
Disappeared
“Are you drinking honey?”

He went to bed alone
Again
The boys were still up, she was sleeping
On the couch
A voice, trembling, awakened him, “she was screaming at me
Again
Dad. She was yelling and she fell
Down the stairs. I think she’s hurt, Dad. I think
She’s hurt.”