Savior of the Dust

For Dad

In antiquity,

my father would have been a drunk historian -

our Lord in the attic,

savior of the dust.

Sipping ancient brews with

elderberry, jackfruits, and almond,

fuel for the hours,

light for the library

His tea dispenser - double Earl Grey

reminds me

the world is his study.

He is forever in the stacks,

breathing chalky syllables,

laughing in Hebrew.

I play cards in silence as he plays at his stories.

I've heard them before, I don't interrupt

finishing his punchlines in my head

and stealing them

I live this way because of him.