After a while, you don’t bother
with the brief and the pajamas;
you leave him on the sheet,
make him shit himself, then
shift over to the other side
until I can come, lift up
the body, wipe his bottom
with a soft cotton cloth, bundle
up the sheet with two more
in the corner, straighten
out the plastic over the mattress—
sometimes you have to wipe
it, too, then put a towel
under him until the other
sheet dry, and all the time,
you don’t say a word,
you don’t ask for nothing.
You let your hand brush
against your father’s back
and pray his dignity will last
another day. This is how
a man must care for his father;
quiet, casual, and steady.
Cleaning
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