Maybe the small shadow fluttering through the light
as I nod off in a tiny, tiny room, blinds drawn tight,
is nothing more than my thought of you
It’s no longer important I arrived an hour late,
though I always wanted to hold your hand at the end,
remind you of all we’ve done, assure you it’s okay,
inevitable as they say, except for themselves
Yesterday I saw you being devoured by dying,
eyes half open, unrecognizable, tongue to one side,
arms silken in their weight crossed over your breasts,
the last of your bright urine in a plastic bag clipped to a bed
You’d be embarrassed by all the people wanting a peek
of how badly you’d fallen apart in your last days
Sometimes it seems it goes back to bottles and diapers,
the humility of giving in to eager hands and eyes
Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, Buddha, are answers too easy for all this
Come to me again if you can when I’ve fallen into dream sleep
Whisper to me what you’ve learned so far about dust