My dad says the snow wasn’t even
anything to mention. A real sister
kisser. Barely a dusting. He’s got me
on speaker. My stepmom yelling
about how the ambulance came,
how my dad started doing the dishes
after he dialed 911, didn’t want them
thinking they were the kind of people
who’d leave dishes in the sink. Judge
Judy on repeat in the living room.
I doubt they care about dishes, I said.
But what do I know about caring?
About the Poem:
My dad is the sole caregiver for my stepmother, and to fight against what we call a real Gene Hackman scenario, my brothers and I have agreed to call him nearly every day. I’ve grown to love these calls. He’s always had such a funny way with words so when he called the very light Cackalacky snow a “sister kisser” I knew I had to write a poem. Watching him care for her is one of the great gifts of my life. So, hi dad. I love you.
About the Poet:
Winner of the 2023 Tenth Gate Prize and a 2023 Alma Award, Nicole Callihan has two recent poetry collections: chigger ridge (The Word Works 2024) and SLIP (Saturnalia 2025). Other books include This Strange Garment (Terrapin 2023), the 2019 novella, The Couples, and griefbeing, a recent chap out from Lily Poetry Review Books in 2025. She teaches in the Expository Writing Program at New York University.
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