after Father’s Day, 2014

You say there’s a bottle calf
you rescued—skinny—
from the fields. I think how
you must like to go there
twice a day to be needed
by someone so young.

I told you about the blowing
and fallen limbs, and you said
the crops were okay after hail.

And the boys are okay, too.
You wanted to know.

Our voices sound like
they belong together—we speak
through our noses,
in the family way. I wonder
what you sound like
when you’re not with me.
I’ve never known you without me.

But I know
when I am without you,
I sound different.
I built a compost bin
because of all you were to me,
but you’ve never had use
for anything quite like that.

After we say the usual goodbye,
you say, Love you.
It’s something new you
must have learned
away from me. So I try it—
Love you, too—
before I hang up the phone.

  1. I absolutely love this.

      • clbeyer
      • June 25th, 2014

      nacole, thank you.

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