It's not likely
that I will take my father to the sea at year's end.
So
I will hang across from his bed
a poster of beachgoers
and seashores that stretch to places I do not know.
He may not see it at all.
This is why
I will silence the sound of my breathing
as I wet his fingertips with salt water.
And I will believe years later
that I heard him say:
'I smell the scent of iodine.'