Monday, February 1, 2016

Understanding Death

It was never the word coma or
the sound of artificial breathing. 
It was clinging to an ice cube 

hand on the central coast 
of Florida pressing for comfort 
as a scared child does to her mother.

I foolishly thought 
she wasn't holding onto me 
but I was mistaken. 

She was patiently waiting 
until I was out of the room 
to finally to let go. 

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