The
Night My Father and I Lost Each Other
I just wanted to know something.
I climbed out of bed, crept to where
my father was sleeping. I said
I wanted water. He got up,
touched Mother goodbye.
Out of the bedroom, through his den,
into the kitchen, I followed him to where
the water was dripping. We couldn’t
go back to bed that night. I fell asleep
at the table. He had a pipe wrench,
taking off the faucets. In a dream later,
I heard my mother’s voice. A door
closed. I didn’t know where he was.
In another, I awoke in my room.
Copyright © 2003 Paul Dickey