Communication

The last lucid conversation I had
With my father went like this:
I took his hand--
already so white,
already so cold--
And said thank you for
teaching me how to . . .

His eyes popped open then
And he finished my sentence.
. . . to communicate?
I laughed and said yes.
That.
Of course.

I can't remember now, three years later,
What it was I meant to say that night
With the snow falling quiet
Outside and all around.
But I'm glad I said what I did.
My father and I,
We communicated.