a fat shit-fly hovers above marble
and steel
in these final days even his buzz slows
i curse and shoo him from the lip of a coffee mug
he rises like the heavy hand of a storm-cloud
___
the old man lays tucked beneath knitted wool
smiles when i arrive
6 months
he whispers
his wife
corrects
more like six days
shock registers
as he relearns it again
___
my tongue cleaves heavy
a thick thief stealing words
___
the visiting nurse
asks about dementia
two heads nod
a small orange cat scratches a flea bite
an old man shakes his head
no
___
i hope to say goodnight
but he is asleep on the couch
i
know
what
he
will
look
like
in the coffin
___
when i arrive home
the gray cat paces and stalks
a slow, green fly holds tight the wall
m
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