The Autocrat

[Achebe]

Dad put his feet up
on the table after he ate,
still wearing the farm on his soles.

He leaned back in his chair and belched,
unbuttoned his pants
and picked his teeth
like a fat cat
done controlling the dish.

We'd finish the meal
staring at the manure on his boots.

I think it's okay to repeat the observation  because the distraction of S2 made me forget L3 and it was nice getting back to it.
The image in the last line IMO shouldn't be too visceral so what you have here actually works for me. But info find it a bit overlong and clunky. 'Staring' is a prettt dull word here.
Otherwise, great little poem.