Mark from college always so solid

Mark, from college, always so solid,

tight jaw and rough hands.

His son, talking about dance class,

light on his feet, all plans.

I watched Mark's face go still,

his eyes on the boy's easy smile.

The unconscious clench of his fist,

just for a little while.

The cost of that silence, that held breath.

The slow, grinding pressure, year on year.

Of being what they expect, until death.

And the thing you gave up, still so clear.