Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Late Signal

Dear nobody left,

I put my
father into
the ambulance,
when it was time for
him to. He was
not going to
rehab. He came home
carried only
by not his own. He
no longer ate
or drank. He was not
getting better
hospital. Returning
home did his
returning. home was
tremendous tension to
see, the house
committed his
death. We were
worn there when
he was put into. Two
kind ambulance
drivers do not
revive notice. Lifted into
the ambulance after
his birthday, he was giving
away. I was
giving him, too. The
task was left
to make me.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I like this, the way the visible/tangible plays angainst an invisible, a presence that is not a presence - and the anxiety and confusion that befits that - as you accompany it - and then it, whatever that mystery is, and the presence disappears - compelling a conclusion that is not a conclusion, but a realization of one's own unfinished shape, as if the bereaved shape, compels, pushes one forward, a shape potentially impending.

Stephen V