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Horoscope for My Dying Father


ISSUE:  Fall 2015

Shortly, you’ll wake into the room
you woke to over half your life.

The light will inch across the ceiling
until it meets the wall. 
                                       The sheets
will seem softer than you remember.

Your lover will be dreaming still
and you will rise without a sound.

Back to the mirror, you will dress
in your finest black attire. 
                                            Outside,
though we can’t see it in this light, 
the colossal wheel will still turn. 

When, finally, you descend the stairs,
the warped risers will not creak. 

You’ll pause before the door, unlock
it—check the clock. 
                                  Until then, sleep.

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