Poetry

He Read My Lips Through My Eyes

He Read My Lips Through My Eyes
by Tyler Marcil

Summer heat in Denver, Colorado
sometimes unbearable.
Instead of cooking one evening
my sister, her son, his father, my sister’s friend and myself
decided to have dinner at a restaurant downtown.

My two year old nephew sat next to his dad, but across from
me, his mom and her friend. Conversations and laughter filled
the room until our dinner arrived.

After I placed my napkin on my lap, the waiter sat a plate of ribs
in front of my nephew. He swoop in right away. His left hand and his mouth
was messy with barbecue sauce. He took his clean right hand and he clutched
the center of his stark white T-shirt and he started to raise the shirt to
his mouth.

I happened to look up at him after he’d raised his T-shirt. His mom had her
eyes on him too. He stared only at me for the longest time despite what his
dad said to him, “Don’t pay Tyler no mine. Go ahead and wipe your mouth
with your T-shirt. I’ll buy you a new one.” Despite his dad’s comments and
laughter, he let go of his T-shirt, looked at his dad and insisted on a napkin.

I looked at him the way our mother use to look at me and my five siblings
when our manners weren’t in check accordingly.


Copyright© 2021 by Tyler A Marcil. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be used or reproduced without the written consent of the author.

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