White Noise

Dad’s sinking in his seat…
Every so often
he catches the edge
of our family chatter,
grabs the end
of my sentence
and hauls himself
into awakeness.
“Sorry?” His eyes flicker open.
“Shh,” I whisper, but his lids close
before the sound enters his ears…
his mouth expels
a kind of static.

I’m watching my family fall asleep, one by one.
How many times have they seen me, a child
curling into slumber on the couch, a girl
falling on the playground,
falling into adulthood,
until I’m the last one up?





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