Love Aborted

hospital room

image via Creative Commons


My brother couldn’t talk because of the ventilator.

I couldn’t visit because of the virus.

I wrote a note to send him.

I addressed it to him at the hospital.

I had to change the room number twice.

He died.

Today I threw away the note.

Into the Night

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In dreamless sleep I come to you
And what I do there
And what I see there
Does not come back with me

Still I ache to remember
A feeling, not a memory
The ache is wonder and horror
Caught in the back of my throat

I am aware of it
Like tangled bedsheets
Like blue toothpaste on white porcelain
Like a scab on my knee
Pulling at my skin.

All day long I am grateful
To be here
In the heat of the day
Breathing shallowly the moistured air
Wiping excess humidity from face and arms.

But when the sun stops sliding over
The western wall of my life
And gone to his other lovers
I start to think of my still bed
The coolness of the linens
That might wrap my tired limbs.

I begin again to ache to travel
To where you are
I eat my dinner, feed my dog
Until I come once again
Into the night.