Stacey’s Dad
I catch her in mid-step
on the upstairs landing
between our bedrooms.
Her foot is raised, frozen
by the click of our door,
like a fawn’s paw, caught
by the click of a trigger.
I step up to her, my
arms wide, poised
to catch her like she is
still my little girl.
She is surprised
by my gesture, her body
damp and shivering, not
sure whether to stay or go.
We stand like that
in a deadlock, neither
one moving, until a memory
of contact propels me forward.
She doesn’t flinch
when I hug her,
the fight in her melting
away as I stroke her hair,
Her foot finally landing.