a father, paranoid

shoulder high silhouette  

in my darkened dining room

as i mount the stairs and then pause eyebrows taut and pensive 

sleeping child and wife above

microwaved nachos and a bowl of salsa in my hands

i turn back and down the stairs

and bravely face the opening from foyer into darkened dining room

yes, i see you

mylar balloon i forgot was in here

no my heart is not racing 

do not be stupid you are a balloon

goodnight keep an eye out for intruders. 


never do i feel

more naked – left all alone

than when i shower.

* * * 

a bucket once full

has suddenly, if i’m right,

turned into a chore.

* * * 

‘well, what is it, then?’

‘. . . her eyes – yes! – the way they move; 

not restless but alive.’