Dad’s house stands again,
four yearsafter being demolished.
I walk in.
He lies in bed,
licks his rolling paper,
and when I ask Where have you been?
We buried you, he says I know,

I know.
I lean into his smoke,
tell him
I went back to Jamaica.
I met your brothers,
losing  you made me need them.
He says something I don’t hear. What?  Moving lips,
no sound.
I shake my head.
He frowns.

Disappears.
I wake in the hotel room,
heart drumming.
I get up slowly,
the floor is wet.
I wade into the...