Father Goes to Work
I watched my father roll
forward down the stairs. Eventually he was rolling backward, and then I could
not tell which way. Probably,
he rolled in
both directions at once, perhaps in a moment of extreme freedom.
My uncle, who is not his brother but the brother of somebody else,
helped him erect. And then my father thudded down onto a gurney. My
some sounds to say that there was a woman already unconscious filling
We take two at a time now, a paramedic said, tucking my fathers
hair behind his ears.
My small brother remained heedless of the emergency. He would either not
believe it, or was simply an insatiable son.
I cant remember, but it might have been my mother asleep in that
gurney, only I believe she had a place in the hospital at that time.
My grandfather read a book of history to himself, in his chair with
wheels, while we waited for the conclusions to be reached.
My uncle said, I will wait to call Aunt. He read his watch
My brother continued to cry near where my father had finally stopped
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 28 | Spring 2010