room 319 bed a

Room 319 Bed A


How strange it is
that I can lay a gloved
hand against your cheek
and know that
all the love I feel
is unrequited


Eyes fill with tears
that roll silently
onto my collar.
I who never
loved


I who never felt
loved.
I rail against
the theories of a being
that allows
this travesty to endure


I who never
prayed,
instead wish for
your release from this
suffering and pain
and wish for me
the same.


And in the tiny hours of a tiny day that merely holds us still in this time I await our release
“he left quietly and without pain” they said


I lay my heart
upon the heaving chest
of that one who
I barely know .
For that space in time
I love
I am loved.


Squaring my shoulders
I soften the wrinkles in
the blankets,
whisper non-words of
comfort.
There are none.


Just a job
just a place I show up to
do my twelve and
walk away.
Insulate
Isolate



Grief stays just out
of reach.
Relief is the soft
prayer sigh
I leave lingering
in a quiet hall


Death is the divinity of the life well lived leaving behind the tortured remains of a body humbled by disease and time.



I unknot the corners
of the blankets
the oldewives tied
to keep you lingering here
another day
and open the window
that the oldewives
say will let your
spirit free.
I blow kisses towards
the sun’s rising place
as the oldewives say
it will speed you
Home
where ever that
may be.


I, who
Never loved
Never felt loved,
lay a gloved hand
against another
cheek
and my heart on
another chest


And know


Love is the divinity of a life well lived holding gently a life-worn body humbled by disease and time.