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  • You see, she said

    My father sleep in his chair between us
    White cotton blanket over his shoulders
    Black and white plaid throw on his lap
    Head bowed
    Lips pursed with each out breath
    Hands on the tray table before him
    Arms braced
    Uncombed fringe of hair
    Silver and black
    Caught in a web of tubes and wires
    Call button

    She wondered aloud
    He’s well past the average
    And after all this
    Still carrying on
    You have strong genes

    I looked at her profile
    In a slant of November sun
    Fine boned
    Chin tilted
    Eyes clear
    The silver in her hair burnished
    Her hands light on the arms of her chair
    A pose held for hours and days and weeks
    And more

    Strong genes, I said
    I think so
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