In the Last Days of July, My Father
by Andrea Potos

Already ten days in ICU,
my father opened his eyes and talked,
more than nonsense this time, he said
our names and teased us
like a man on the verge
of reunion with time.

For two days he gave us
the gift of relief, the heart’s
blessed respite.
We did not yet understand he too
needed a rest on his journey–

though he paused along the way
to take us in once more.




Previously published in Marrow of Summer, (Kelsay Books)



 

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