Father and Child, Alone by Joseph Mills

In the dream, my father sits by himself
against the back wall. The room is full.
People are in pairs and small groups,
but he is alone and clearly lonely.
When I wake, I call to make sure
he’s okay. I know his life has become
a series of doctors’ appointments,
each one like the checking of a lottery ticket
to see if the numbers mean anything.
He says he’s fine although surprised
by the call since we talked a week ago.
I explain the dream, the feeling I needed
to check in, and he says he hopes I have
more dreams like that and so will call
more often which makes me feel shitty
although he doesn’t mean it like that
(I don’t think). I say I will, regardless
of what dreams may come, and I mean it,
at that moment, and he knows I do.
I have good intentions, most of the time,
and perhaps that’s what it comes down to
for parents, the belief in good intentions,
despite experience, the small comfort
they still come to their children in dreams.



Joseph Mills is on the faculty at University of North Carolina School of the Arts. His most recent collection of poetry is The Holiday Cycle (Press 53).