At Dad’s House in the Country

Dan Nygard

I tore open
an old lawn chair,
sat, heard its cracked weaving,
drank his beer
sitting where
driveway concrete
bordered gravel.
He was dying;
he would die
three months later:
his heart, his liver
worn down to the nub
and I guess I knew it
that evening,
how it would happen
it hit me
in the same way
some evenings
the leaves of the ash tree
become more distinct.


Dan Nygard’s poems have appeared in Read This, Main Channel Voices, and Love Child.  Also, his photograph “Bonanzaville, U.S.A.” has appeared in this magazine.

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