Remember? We marveled at the depth,
stealth and stubbornness of white oaks
infesting the drainage; how
thirsting roots bit through flaking
iron? How many weekends did we
we dig out trees and fit in new pipes?
Eight months now I've watched a blob
wolf you down, gorging your motor
functions, senses, memories,
shriveling your skull and soul to
just a husk with bewildered eyes
and a mouth downwards nailed.
Best I could do
was throw you a death at home,
in a house of pre-teen Goths, liars of positivity,
conjurers of hope, magii in muumuus
bearing casseroles and cold chicken;
relatives I never met before and never
shall again -- you can't say you were left alone.
When AAA Crematory rattled up
in a dilapidated Honda mini-van,
wrestled you onto a gurney,
zipped you up in a long vinyl bag,
I nearly said, wait, wait, he's gotta breathe
but how stupid would that have been?
Your arctic blue wrists and ankles
were adorned with bright paper bracelets
dappled with trees, birds and suns
and "GOOD BYE, GOOD BYE
WE LOVE YOU" in fat crayons.
The grandkids put them there
as the hospice doctor pronounced you
man without life; she raised high the long
arc of the blood streaked catheter
flowing from your groin;
and, as a neighbor’s baby shrieked,
snipped it free
ã 2004 Bruce Jewett
