My Father’s Leaving

Ira Sadoff

1975

When I came back, he was gone.

My mother was in the bathroom

crying, my sister in her crib

restless but asleep. The sun

was shining in the bay window,

the grass had just been cut.

No one mentioned the other woman,

nights he spent in that stranger’s house.

I sat at my desk and wrote him a note.

When my mother saw his name on the sheet

of paper…

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