Hoosier

In my new apartment
my father tells me
he tacked the “Hoosier” sign
to the cabinet
after it fell off.

It is my mothers’ cabinet,
their old house files forward
in the rolodex of images
as he gazes at it.

“I couldn’t get it quite right,”

“But at least you got it on”
I say.

I am the sugar
at the bottom
of their ice coffee