Soapbox Poet

Small, Wrapped Moments: Papa

calloused fingers snap behind my ear, revealing a penny

The secretive scent of cigarette smoke spills into my nose-

I open my mouth to ask, but before I do, I ponder

Is this what “far away from home” smells like? Or just Ohio?

Hi papa.

As if he had to think of what to say next, he pursed his lips-

What did you learn today?

I open the atlas he gave me last week and search for

far away lands to fly away to.

I learned I need more sleep, I say.

Then learn to sleep faster.