Poem 014 · 08 / 2026 · READ 03:30

The Weather in My Father's Voice

by L. Tsan

rain, then a clearing, then rain.

he called to say nothingand said it for twenty minutes.

somewhere a roof is learningits job from the storm.

I answer in weathers too:low pressure, a front of silencemoving in from the west of me.

we hang up.the sky between our housesfolds itself smaller.

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