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Sunday, May 9, 2010

So Beautifully - So Easily Dead

You lied in your bed
in that hot August
summer
the linens white and crisp
Your mother peeked in and
recoiled in horror
Your grandson a teen just
murmered 'bummer'
Your wife smiled and fluffed
and smiled some more
and hurried out and in your door
I sat with you upon your bed
And combed cologne through your
silver head
As I sat with you upon your bed
I saw not what the others saw
I saw both less and so much more
My father hair raven black
Broad shoulders, a strong hard backI
sat with you upon your bed
and sang a song you taught me when I was but three or four
A song you said a sweet sweet poem
sweet chariots coming to take you homeI
sat with you upon your bed
smelled the scent of turpentine
saw canvases white turned
to form, color and light
as I stayed with you from
morning to nightI
sat with you upon your bed
as I hummed Motzart in my head
and then you lifted
arms from your bed
with eyes still
closed the concerto
you led
I sat with you upon your bed
And realized that you were seeing
something inexplicably vast there
but you were standing in front
and blocking my view
But for that moment I simply, calmly
unequivocably knew
I sat with you upon your bed
You opened your eyes once and
asked me
When? Am I still here?
I nodded and said you knew more about this now
than I
You closed your eyes
let out a smiling sigh
I sat with you upon your bed
And felt you breathe and in my head
In deep, sweet scented apricots your heart mine filled and fed
until you were still
and beautifully, easily dead

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