Buddhism, poetry

My Father Falls Asleep

My father falls asleep
while watching the one
hour of tv
that belongs to him
a night
his glasses fog
With every grumbling snore
bald head craddled
by a stark white cushion
wrinkled socks
resting on
My copy of Marx
His toe twitches
My sister takes a picture of him
She smiles at the joke
And I smile too

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