Under the Blanket
They held the edges
of their parents’ blanket
(once a tent
under which they played
with twiglike
limbs and the milky breath of children)
and pulled it
over their father’s face.
Their mother sat
in the corner picking at her chin,
knowing
something bad had happened.
They got in
their cars and drove home.
When the oldest
got home, her lover woke up and they made love.
All night she
lay still, listening to his breath,
avoiding his calloused heels and the damp patch on the sheets.
avoiding his calloused heels and the damp patch on the sheets.