STORM HALO

I glance at the halo around the sun

before I go in the lobby.

Mr. Lamb said they

can be warnings: storm moving in.

But the sky is otherwise clear.

At the front door,

turn the key,

no one comes to greet me.

Finally:

empty house,

no one to tell me lies,

make pretend.

Head straight

to the bathroom

to wash away

Ponytail’s prints.

Open the door—

I am not alone.

I see a figure crouched in the corner

of the shower,

faucet just dripping.

A hunched body

shivering in the water’s pool.

Dad.