Father’s Day (poem)

A year ago, I called you
and you said you were in
the pool at your aunt’s house.
I envisioned you treading

water with your cell phone
pressed against your ear
and it made me laugh.
The pool. How absurd!
You said you were the only
adult there without a child.
I didn’t know what to say

except, “Good.” I cradled
your strange image behind
my open eyes and drank
your voice into my flesh
and said good-bye too quickly,

as always. We were childless
parents last Father’s Day
and we will be again this year.
But I won’t be calling you

today, even though I will wonder
if you’re back in that pool,

getting wrinkled, without me
in your ear.