A PHONE CALL FROM DAD

The coldness of the
hospital chair
on which he sits
sends a shiver down my spine

My hands shake
as he takes out
his reading glasses
from his blazer
to read out the
clinical parameters
of 'the patient'

He feigns cough
to camouflage the
tremors in my voice
the lump in his throat
lets blame the network
we agree

A warm wetness
fills my heart and eyes
as I hear a tear
flood the furrows of his face
the tear he wipes
wets my shoulder

Grief is a secret
we seldom share
we don't allow
each other
the luxury called
vulnerability

He waits alone
in the corridor
between now and
.....nothing
I close my eyes
to remember him smile.