Leak

When September rain fell hard,
Papa would fix leaks in the roof.
I’d bring the gloves to him,
But did everything I could to get out of work.
I was too selfish to ever help my father more.

Next fall he gave himself some nasty cut.
Myself, snug deep in bed while he worked without his gloves.
Had I known it, I would have tended to his wound.
But such a lazy-ass, like me, I dreamt of summer instead.

My papa died the season after
Because the cut had been infected.
So now I tend to the leaks,
From rain and my unceasing tears.