A Poem I did not write about spending a summer night with a person you love

Poem: "Back Porch" by Jay Leeming from Walking Coy Hill Road. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

Back Porch

Before
my father needed
an oxygen machine
to breathe
he would often sit
on the back porch
smoking
on summer nights
and I would join him
to talk
about music or
the moon
as the sun went
down
and the cicadas
rattled
in the willow trees

If we sat there
long enough
darkness would fill
the backyard
until our bodies
disappeared
and the orange glow
of his
cigarette
as he inhaled
became all
that I could see
of him
as if his life
were only
that burning

and the ashes
scattered afterwards