Wednesday, July 1, 2015



Some come, bend down
And fill her ears with
Complex messages of love
And understanding, wishes
For wonders in her
Afterlife.  I sit across
The room worried that

I won’t be able to get her
To give her water once they leave.
She will not suck from the straw,
But clamps her teeth upon it.
And when I hold an open
Cup she lets it dribble

Down her shirt.  I think
As her friend rises with
A beatific smile, I’ll try again. 
I’m growing weary.  She has
No doubt absorbed all that she
Heard, but how can I get her to
Understand that she must drink?

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