I Count My Days

i count my days
weeks lose their meaning
the month is one third gone
then half, two thirds,
to much time to pass
and not enough at all
my days are read from checklists
my checklist reads
to check on her again
and so I do
so still and shrunken
i double check that she’s not dead
her pulse is there
but no response to pain
she barely gags.
the fabric of time shifts
slowing to accommodate
her fading days
good-bye mrs. T, i say,
leaving, then to the nurse apologize
for talking to the almost-dead.
oh she heard you, she smiled,
i almost imagine it’s true.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s