Images on the floor beneath the door
and I know Daddy's home.
The television is on,
I put my hands on the door and feel
voices along the wood.

Eyes by the keyhole,
I see Daddy sitting in the chair—
black boots laced, dog tags, keys, and hat placed
on the table next to something I cannot
see. The key blocks my view,
I dare not push it through.

He eats in the chair, he sleeps in the chair
in that room and for years,
he doesn't know
I am there.