Experiences 1

Poetry on loss.

Author's note: I wrote these the summer of 2001, when my mother lay in a coma, dying from Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease.


Heroic measures or comfort.
I can't make a decision to
To save my life or hers.
Do Not Resuscitate.
A dollar flew out of my purse
When I pulled my notebook out.
Face up, green.
Labored breathing.

****

Rate of oxygen varies,
Rising with the sun, setting likewise.
Should call but the phone sits silent
At this late hour.
The pictures in front of me
Flicker soundless
And I think to ring up
Because it's probably dropped again.
She'll probably die ... but ...
I hit the volume to see and hear the end,
To see and hear the kiss,
The breathless relief. Finally.
Pick up now, no choice.
"It's dropped. You should come."

****

Author's note: The following is about losing your lover.


I see her cry and I know that pain.
Hunched over,
Crying that hurt out.
Losing your man, your ego,
Your self.
Who is she now?
Free to choose ... now.
And yet
Her choice would be him.
Pain and all.