04-02-2018, 10:42 AM
Death be not proud
She waits for me all day
In her death chapel
Where machines moan
Life into the dying
Behind sea green curtains
But my day is spent
In the company
Of the living
Moving the markets
Or the boxes
Never thinking
Of her there
In the company
Of the urine-stench
Of her dying fellowship
And her missing hair
Beneath that knit cap
Donated by some middle school
Children hoping
to make a difference.
And I can’t make the trip
-this time-
Can’t make my legs move
After 10 hours on the floor
Up those final stairs
To lift her in my arms
Muscle her into the wheel chair
Her death-stench on my cheek
And push her out
To the fresh night air
To catch a glimpse of fireflies
And clear her lungs.
She waits for me all day
In her death chapel
Where machines moan
Life into the dying
Behind sea green curtains
But my day is spent
In the company
Of the living
Moving the markets
Or the boxes
Never thinking
Of her there
In the company
Of the urine-stench
Of her dying fellowship
And her missing hair
Beneath that knit cap
Donated by some middle school
Children hoping
to make a difference.
And I can’t make the trip
-this time-
Can’t make my legs move
After 10 hours on the floor
Up those final stairs
To lift her in my arms
Muscle her into the wheel chair
Her death-stench on my cheek
And push her out
To the fresh night air
To catch a glimpse of fireflies
And clear her lungs.