The next day
we stare at
Dazed and Confused,
Sixteen Candles.
The undertakers go in and out
of my parents’ bedroom.
They speak softly,
finally
carry him out
in a black body bag.
I think about
the hallway mirror,
a silent, sturdy witness:
It’s seen
Dad making costumes,
helping us with our homework,
me sneaking in late,
fighting,
now
the mirror—
reflecting, empty—
watches
him go.