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
“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?