Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Saying Goodbye

They said she could hear me
as she laid there violently still.
Her soft Irish skin spread like putty
to the mattress,
her speechless mouth hung open,
and her eyes,
like fish eyes- glossy, unfocused, bulging.
How I prayed to hear words
from her, there, living lips
as if to pull out some meaning.

I remember the day
she told me this might happen.
How naive I was about her bruised
and wheezing body.
And when asked a month before,
if the chance of her dying might come,
Any questions? Anything to say?
I just stared at the evening
stroking tall buildings outside.

How much I'd change that,
the closed mouth, the young mind.
What I might ask of her now-
all the things I'd love to know.

Alexandra Ustach

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