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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