hanging pictures with my father hammer tangle of gold hooks silver wire in his pants pocket the level with its three green bubbles he’d gone downstairs for the step stool afternoon sunlight on the snow floods in the french doors gray walls white trim polished wood floor my parents have painted for when they don’t live here anymore watercolors of a maine island my father was summer doctor there with his wife before my mother hold it here finger on the wall pencil mark his teeth submerged in a green glass by the bathroom sink the sun sets over seagulls on a rock his slipper bottoms on the rubber of the step stool we step back to look Lyndsey Weiner