Father

when his father died
my father stood by the tv
and laughed at repeats
of our favorite sitcom
I laughed too
even though I was scared

of him, his deep brown skin
grey, under the fluorescent lights
his eyes, large and red and his shaved head
suddenly bare
of all the hair he had combed
so carefully, all his life

at night, he held my mother and cried
like he’d never cried
and said ‘It’s like the roof is gone’

my mother told me
and I wish she hadn’t
it was easy to think of him
like a boulder, opaque, unkind
and unafraid
better than another life cheapened by pain

when my father dies
I will wear my sorrow like an expensive jacket
with cashmere sleeves
I hope I do not have any children to deceive