Yum Cha

Let’s drink tea,

Dad. I worry about your health. I do not think you could give me your kidney

like you promised.

If we were medieval, you’d have a forge working late nights early mornings stumbling to sleep in the afternoon

and it all looks so romantic

until the shadows of tree branches grow over your face and

we laugh

because we’re not medievalists and you’re just a man

downing coffee dregs.

Dad, you have depressed the couch. By which I mean to say, you have literally

left a depression in the couch.

You are the sleeping field mouse an artist wants to carve the likeness of into a hollow walnut.

By the time the kitchen exhaust fan is at work, maybe you are awake and driving

to the hardware store

and tonight, if I am the telescope, you are the ISS blowing past

me yelling “tally-ho”

saluting the stars with your cap but before the next galaxy, Dad,

let’s drink tea.

Leave a Reply