I am the scout my siblings deploy 
to watch and report 
from the top of the stairs. 
My father’s new suitcase lies

on the floor, half-empty for gifts –
if he makes it back. He 
fastens the clasps down, 
metallic clicks blast. –

what had he told me 
about taking a full breath, 
then letting half out before 
pulling the trigger? –

I recoil, he looks up, 
and I skitter away. I pull up my blanket 
when he enters my room, my 
mouth and nose covered,

eyes lidded tightly, ears on alert. 
He says: In four weeks, I’ll see you again. 
I lie silent until

he is nearly gone: I’ll forget 
your face by then.