The Man Who Brought His Own Food

for Natalee Moinester

She doesn't remember his name
or anything he might have said-
she was too young - but only
that the man brought his own food,
a grocery bag set on the countertop
beside the phone, some fresh things
wrapped in plastic in the fridge,
and he wouldn't eat from their plates.
With some prompting she will say
he was an old friend of her father's
she had met for the first time
who wore a yarmulke and in the morning
seemed to move his lips but out came
silence as he stood and shook
wrapped in black straps and a white shawl
before his book off by himself
while she watched cartoons, yet
he didn't seem to notice the spectacular
view of the mountains behind the house,
his eyes half-closed, his shape gone limp.
Maybe then the girl first guessed
her father was this way before,
so too the grandfather she never knew
among those strange and chanting
men at once familiar in her dreams.