A Reason to Leave Lake Charles

The kitchen table stretches out for a mile
into the next parish. Your morning lips
consume half the rim of a coffee cup as you prepare
to pour out your demands for the day. I am already
tired.

I see the brown water slowly rising in the east
and am worried that the basement was never
properly sealed. Overweight rain drops pelt
the windows like rocks. I invite the dogs to come inside.
They seem to appreciate my concern.

My mother is sick again. I can hear the desperation
in her voice, weak and scratchy. She would never ask me
to move home. Not her style.

You call at 10:30 to make sure that I have met the Fedex
man and changed the sheets in the guest room for your
sister who will camp here for a month. You don’t ask
about the dogs.

I drive west. Charlie and Sam breathe on the windows
and paw the glass. They beg for fresh air, and I understand.
It’s a long trip home, but we can take our time.

 

 

About the Poet:  John Dorroh continues to explore his world, both in his immediate environment and beyond. “Sometimes it takes getting away to find what’s within.” He taught high school science for a couple of eras and is now more selective about when and where he works.

 

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