Sherman's entry came, as he says, “right out of the keyboard,” untitled:

Before we leave, old man, I button your coat to the top,
a simple gesture whose best ramification
is this: You will be warm when I hoist you
on my shoulders and carry you (my vagrant father,
my insulin shocker and DNA-carried-in-blood-and-saliva,
my wormwood end table and living room apocalypse,
my nomadic amputee and hypnopompic dog chasing coyote dreams)
outside into the fog that progs every pore of our American skin.

Sherman Alexie

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