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  • The wind picked up in the night
    but that’s not what woke me.
    The front door slapping woke me.
    I lay listening until I remembered
    the new door didn’t move
    and couldn’t rattle with the wind.

    Years before the wind had caught
    the old door us kids left open. Slammed
    so hard the left pane shattered
    and the old etched glass
    was never a matched pair again.

    I’m not saying he held it against the door or his children
    but my father replaced the door
    in the years running up towards
    his death. Never fit properly, he said.

    What woke me was the sound of papers rustling
    on my father’s desk in the next room,
    and the old rocking chair
    that used to be in my room,
    now filled with bags of my oldest brother’s clothing
    rocks in the strong breeze.

    The sound I am hearing,
    that woke me in the dark , is the one
    of the dead and the one who is gone.
    I get up and close the window.
    In the silence following,
    I sleep.
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