After dinner, Andrew sits on the floor and belts
out notes – off key - from well known power ballads
tilting me back to early family parties
and recent business meetings when I could
and did express my tension, truth or beauty, disregarding.
Then his clamorous song stirs up a heavy
chest, my cave of mouth to a vinegar taste
and tears all dammed with clubby fingers
clenched for every time I couldn’t, didn’t
howl because he's singing out, because he can.