In My Father’s Room

January 21, 2013 at 12:31 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

 

the fan is like flowing water

with the curtains drawn

waves and waves of wind

wash over me on the chair

in his bed where I was lying down

after lunch

I drifted into sleep

like the furniture

only the curtains moved gently

shaking slivers of sun onto the floor.

 

– Dominic Alapat

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