Father

[Lawrence]

I wonder if my father understands
How much time we spend together

At night, I listen to the metronome of his pulse
Tutting like a grandfather clock

Sometimes, I see him sitting at my table
Staring at me from behind a polished shine

Clutching a glass of juice, silent-
Burning in the language of his eyes

Which are mine, and he tells me
That though it’s been years, he is not surprised

With the man I have become.
I look away. “Neither am I”, I say.