Belt Buckle High

"You never know what kind of battle they are fighting." "Sad Little Cowboy" pencil drawing by Craig Cassell

The exam room is full

of sick sisters,

phlegmy coughs,

her dad and me¾

an ear thermometer in my hand.

She leans on his knee seeking comfort,

 

then cowers

like a frightened dog

at her father’s growl,

barely as tall as his belt buckle.

He stamps!

his boot heel on her tennis-shoed toe,

 

her chapped lower lip quivers

but I see no tears;

she backs away,

and sits her tiny bottom

on the edge of a blue padded chair

the other side of her biggest sister.

 

I worry,

If this is how he treats her

while waiting for the doctor,

after five days of fever, a headache,

and weeks of stuffy nose¾

What happens

 

when she pinches

her baby sister?

or wets the bed?

or knocks

a tumbler full of grape juice

onto the carpet?

 

I sit in judgment,

until finally, I soften…

How did his father

treat him¾

when he was snotty nosed,

hot as a hot tub

and only as high

as a grown man’s belt buckle?