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