I remember eating supper
Off of father’s head.
Shallow dive syndrome
Had left his noggin
Flat as a table.
Even the egg rolls
Wouldn’t roll off.
Sometimes he’d cut his hair
In checkerboard pattern,
And let us kids play
Chess and “king me”
While he read his books.
Of course he dominated
Every headstand competition.
And sometimes at night,
When bending down to tuck me in,
I’d find a cup of hot milk
Perched soothingly atop him.