Knock. Knock.

By Ron Sonoda

Early evening, after sunset

Knock. Knock.

Daddy, somebody go stay knock on door.

Knock. Knock.

Go open da’ door. See who stay outside . . .

What de’ want?

Through the door, the soldiers with guns said: “We can see lights from your lamp coming around the blackout shades.”

De’ say de’ can see da’ light comin’ from behin’ da’ curtain.

De’ say go cova up da’ light.

Tell ‘em, we go fix ‘em.

I say I too sked talk to dem.

My father went outside to talk to them.

He closed the door.

I cannot see him but I can hear him talk to a soldier:

“We gonna’ cova ‘em up.”

He stayed outside a long time.

I worried . . . Dad outside a long time.

I worried that they were going to do something to him.

The door opens, it’s my father.

He pull down the shades.

He is okay, the soldiers gone.