Dad was on the couch, mostly
starving to death in front of us
cancer, stage IV

(for this type, many don’t catch 
the earlier stages, and of course 
there aren't later ones)

we hung pinecone bird feeders close 
to the house, bringing Nature near
when he couldn't go out

we talked about our shared 
favorites: the praying mantis, female
cardinal, blue herons, black cats

we talked about Chris Christie taking a swing 
at the Bully, about what the hell would make someone crazy 
enough to walk into North Korea 

we talked about how to take care of mom
where to find the passwords,
who to trust

we talked about the final moment
and how I might not make it
(I did, he waited)

we talked about how a summer would never
be enough time, as the days stretched out 
my son, his namesake, waited in the cherry tree

————————————–

Annie Powell Stone called us from Baltimore, MD.

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"My Last Summer with Dad, 2023" by Annie Powell Stone

Poetry via voicemail. Missed calls you need to hear.

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"My Last Summer with Dad, 2023" by Annie Powell Stone

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