to Petey and me and mine, and all . . .
You’d fallen again,
this time your bones of a body wedged there between toilet and wall unable to move,
looking long as if with height you’d never had.
And me helpless, afraid . . .
Then I see your face resting on floor tiles: all serene grace
apologetic, yet assuring me as if an angel had already spoken.
Weeks before you’d slid off the bed,
stuck between it and the wall.
Then like now that face serene, assuring, apologetic,
And so months have crept beyond a year and that’s what I see.
No longer does the image of cadaver haunt me,
a hulk of near naked bones there on the bed.
Now I see only that face
radiant serene grace captured forever.
Forever assuring me it’s ok
It’s all ok…
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