KNEES.

I found my father
sitting on the ground with his
back against the couch and

his hands in his lap. A curved back
from all those years of roofing
left him slightly forward.

I pressed a hand on the curve of his back
and lowered myself next to him.
I stretched my legs forward like my fathers.

He touched me on my knee with his calloused hand
and patted it twice-- he returned his hand
to his lap.

I went to touch his knee and felt that it dented
inward.

And it was a Thanksgiving Day accident
that defeated my father, but empowered
my sisters and mother.

I couldn’t help but think that
a man of 50 or so had skinner legs
than that of a girl who just turned 20.

I returned my hand to my lap.

-sonja lynn mata