April 24th 1998, 8:37 a.m. Ellensburg, Washington

 April 24^th 1998, 8:37 am in Ellensburg, Washington

 

 

He walks the property with a bowl

of cheerios in his right hand, silently.

The milk and grain swish

in his cheek

and the silver spoon is strangled

in a white grip; he can’t swallow.

His knees rise and fall in the tall

grass my grandfather hasn’t been able

to mow in months.

Grass that rides the wind like a wave

to the base

of the hill that stretches up

behind the double wide.

And with his back turned on me

I don’t need to see his

tears that puddle in the two percent.

But I’m captivated by the few grey hairs

the sun has caught and the

freckles in his bald spot.

I’ll keep looking after him.

Alone, in a red sweater and jeans,

worn brown birkenstocks and socks;

was the first time I saw my daddy cry.

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