Sunday, July 29, 2018

Kristen de Kline #217 That was it.

At the door
where the dead men

her breath

the vagrant pineapple
hit the wedding picture

it toppled downwards
onto the sheepskin rug

she said something
none of us could decipher

That was it.

After three days
you all slept

I sat beside her
listening to her breathing

I could still feel
her lips on mine

you told me it was impossible
she had passed a day before

I watched her blow smoke
rings - her breath, laboured

Was this it.

The air was thick
under both my eyes

you said: it looks like
a bad mascara job

we took some laughing gas
returned to Faggot's Landing

you held my hand in yours
kissed the nape of my neck

then the ward
went very quiet

the duty nurse said:
you must get some rest

Gloria Gaynor was belting
out: I will survive

That was it.


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