So I start the telling of it,
the death
and the last time,
which I didn't know
was the last one,
to one who hasn't heard it before.
And she receives it from me
welcomes it -
the telling of it -
and holds it
with kitten soft gloves.
So then I can breathe into the cavity of
my ribs
into the scrying bowl that wasn't
there before
her witness
to my telling of it.
Of the last time
I touch him,
a kiss
brief
hurried,
because I want to go home.
You look at me
from your lying sideways
on the pillow,
tired
sleepy.
"I love you,
have a wonderful life",
you say, with
your full of sweetness
smile.
I can't remember if I said it -
how can I not?
But I would have said
'I love you too'
because I always did.
And I know I said,
'I'll see you tomorrow,
and I'm bringing your sister
and Ian and the children.'
And your face was beaming happy then.
And I leave you
one last time
and I go to the nurse's office
and talk to her about the arrangements for tomorrow
and that I'm worried you are slipping sideways in the car seat
and I'm thinking about getting a car that we can adapt for a wheel chair.
And then I walk back down the corridor
and stop
briefly at your open door
and look in at you,
lying on your side
in the bed
with your eyes closed.
And I don't go to you
and kiss you goodbye
one last time.
And I wish I had.
Taken those few steps across the carpet,
and touched your cheek.
bent my head to yours,
instead of longing to go home
to be alone...
not knowing it would be
a forever alone.
Because all this was
just hours
before
the phone call
the next morning.
But here's the thing
at the end of the telling of it,
I see that what I'm holding on to is
my if-only wishes.
They kill me more
than the real shock
of the phone call
which my body
is clinging to
for dear life.
So I'm sitting with a new thought
waving the white flag
of surrender
I give up the war in myself of
what didn't happen
what I didn't do
what I didn't say
what I wish I had
done
and
said.
And let my body speak to me of
the news
not new
but shattering
me
still.
A moment
frozen in time.
And to dis-able
the bullet power
of that moment
again and again
is something I can do...
with the help
of those
kitten soft gloves.
