Dad Up Late
Your laptop the only light
to lead you up the stairs.
No one else awake, no other sounds
but yours, you think, as you ascend the well.
But down the hall you see him,
prone in bed, his neck craned down
towards the laptop on his knees.
His face is absent at the lambent hearth
as he scrunches towards forgetfulness,
his tallow jaw resting on a roll of fat
also led away by distant light.