FATHER'S SLEEP Poem by William Cliff

my father often complained of aches and pains
he rubbed his back and yelled and swore
or suddenly crushed by an overwhelming fatigue
he fell asleep like a sack of potatoes anywhere

his legs apart chin on his chest
he slept flattened under the weight of work
and sometimes even at table pushing his plate
with his forehead on his hands he fell asleep

then very gently we removed his napkin
under his forehead and his hands we removed the cutlery
we stealthily cleared the table
on tip-toe we abandoned the room

to let him take all his rest as he should
we left him with his forehead resting on the table
where he slept defeated like a dead animal
but later we heard him shout in the room

he yelled because sleep had deserted him
his body hurt and ached all over
his fingers had left red marks on his skin
he woke up angry: it had been so good

to be so far away from all his cares!
and swearing and grumbling he went to Marie
to the kitchen to drink a cup of black coffee
then he went out he started the car we heard

the tyres on the gravel the fear had ended
we resumed our games our fratricidal wars