You Were a Stone

By Mary McGinnis

For almost sixteen years,

I was frozen in the shape of a sleeping child,

stuck to my bed like a stiff white doll.

At times afraid of you, I heard your voice

like a dark, supernatural cloud

hovering outside my door.

In my most disturbing nightmare,

we stood motionless in the kitchen -

you gave me a glassful of gasoline.

I started to drink it down

trying not to make a face,

afraid to let go and gag.

The day you died you started to walk right past me, Daddy,

moving toward the bedroom after cutting the grass.

I reached for you, skin damp and cold under your shirt.

You were about to have a heart attack, in a few minutes

after lying down, but I didn’t know it yet.

I heard a noise I didn’t understand,

I wanted to stop this moment,

but I was frozen. You were about to go over an edge

heading for a place I couldn’t see.

Then I heard you fall,

crash like a huge tree,

shaking the whole house.