Disclaimer: This poem is not about my actual father!

Father

By Stella Story

He came home. Said nothing

He dropped his briefcase on the floor,

For my mother to clean up

He took of his jacket and threw it on the sofa,

For my brother to hang up

He sat down next to his coat

Kicked off his shoes.

In two different directions

For me to pick up

He got up and left

Locked himself in his office

In the office he hid in when

He felt threatened.

Usually by his boss

We were never allowed in the office

He loved it more than he loved us.

He didn’t come out for dinner

My mother had to bring it to him

He didn’t come out for dessert

My brother had to bring it to him

He didn’t take the dog out when the dog needed to go

I had to clean it up

He didn’t come with us

As we walked down the street

Into the purple and pink light of the sunset

He promised me we would play baseball

As soon as he got home

From from work

The same work he was always complaining about

So I played by myself

Instead of with him

Like I always did

Because even though father wasn’t at work anymore

He was never really home