She speaks of her dead father,
says he hovers about all night
making sure her pills work, her door
is bolted, the breakfast table is set.
He’s big on details, reminders, notes
she posted on the ‘fridge and swears
she would forget without his whispers.
The almost accidents – a bike
just brushing her fender, sudden
rain snuffing out a trash fire,
a ladder falling just behind her –
well, what else would explain it?
But without an aching body, no job
to report to, no home chores assigned
and the whole universe to explore,
can’t he find something better to do?
