when the orderly comes to take the tray of sandwiches Dad can’t possibly eat
I am compelled by an impulse to eat the sandwiches and also to catalogue them
for a later poem that I know I will write / here is the poem 20 months later
led by the mock pulse of throaty lungfuls / hot air / I want to eat the sandwiches
because they are there and free and I have trained myself to fill up
on hors d’oeuvres in a crisis / a blanket over the vinyl chair says HEALTH
which seems ironic and funny and I want to take a picture of the blanket but I wait
until everyone is out of the room / I want to take a picture of Dad but I don’t
because I am ashamed / as a child I had to dig up my fish in their matchboxes
from under the petunias just to check / I always knew this would be a big poem
because of the way the room ballooned / my aunt nervous because Dad
didn’t want anyone to see him like this / not even me / Mum Janette Bec Aunt
me Dad / that’s not that many until the nurse folds in the trundle bed / what
my aunt means is why is my girlfriend there / imagine being in the first breath
of love and meeting her dad already unconscious / a few days later meeting her
entire blood / welcome to the family / I would rather Aunt stayed out / so performative
with an arm over mum wailing / I get a minute alone and I am like Dad let me tell you
about the giant stingrays overhead / can you see them? / we’re going round and
round the tunnel at the aquarium / all the moray eels popping their heads out
to say bye / I tried to sing ‘Dangerous’ by Roxette but I couldn’t / I needn’t
have worried about sandwiches because Janette has made a tonne / Janette is stalwart
and practical and when she makes you sandwiches you eat them / this is a love
I can understand / hi to Graeme & Janette from this poem / a couple of days before
I’d put Dad’s socks on his cold feet / if I am honest I didn’t visit hospital much
because my parents were always there taking turns / hospital was our summer house /
I thought Dad would light up when I told him I’d started boxing but he didn’t
so I was a sullen teen again / his only question was when are you going to learn
to drive so I thought I’d get my license while he was getting better and then ta da /
people started saying ask your Dad lots of questions about his life but he never asked
about mine / Dad loved to have a cheese-and-Branston Pickle sandwich at like 11pm
and then complain to Mum about buying carbs / I hold my breath when my aunt calls
down the hall where I am dozing with a sandwich / a doctor comes in to call time
and the nurse snips at him for not taking off the oxygen mask / it is 10.45pm so close
to sandwich hour / she calls Dad sweetie / okay sweetie / a surprise breath / it’s all
right / Aunt starts asking Dad’s spirit to fix the lotto in her favour / sweetie / soon
I will make many phone calls and discover all the ways people react to bad news /
I didn’t realise how quickly it happens the body changes like that / one second
it just wants me to drive and then it can’t eat the sandwiches

Read the rest of Overland 240

If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue

Or subscribe and receive
four brilliant issues for a year