Associative
The
long going out,
epitaph
in
octaves, spirals
of
dissolution;
a
series
of
mistaken verbs,
no
saving grace in
phrasing.
The long
repetitions,
his
jerking
arms
the
temporal lobes
of
dying; then
the
difficult nursing,
then
the chain-saw
breathing.
Surcease.
Enough.
Hold up
your hand
and
halt the traffic
there.
Oh, Linda. Death and poems. Both observed and both finally abandoned.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your thoughts Rob
DeleteI'm pleased you respond to this one Efi. I cared for and nursed my husband, who suffered from fronto-temporal dementia for decades prior to his death. These words came recently.
ReplyDelete