1.
They sleep, upright, head tilted
I watch my father’s chest
Rise and fall
Try to ignore
His shrunken legs stretched out
Beneath his shorts
Behind him
They stride, firm, sun-kissed.
11.
She moans
The pain wakes him
He heaves himself up
Moves to her need
They talk, brown envelopes
Bank mandates
Power of attorney
I sit there in agony.
111.
“Less paper-work if I go first”
“You’ve a point there”
Dad smiles
Mum laughs
Rising for the old decanter
Catching the sunlight
“I’ve got a good Lindeman”
He says.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem