artwork: ralph murre
Return
Trip
by
Peggy Trojan
Coming
back always went fast.
We
fell asleep on the rear seat
in
happy tangle, and were home
before
we wished it.
My
father carried us
to
our beds, my younger
brothers
limp and soft,
easily
moved.
I
was too old
for
such attention,
and
feigning sleep
I’m
sure he knew.
He
picked me up,
all
dangling legs and arms,
my
face in his shoulder
of
tobacco and wool,
trudged
up the stairs.
By
hall light,
he
put me down gently,
took
off my shoes,
covered
me up, clothes and all.
Then,
tip toed out,
leaving
the door ajar.
~
first published in Wisconsin People and
Ideas
