Lorna Gilbert
after he died-
personal effects shoved tight against a damp, grey wall
bloodless arms laid over a silent chest
an edict from proletarian etiquette of yesteryear
a different nurse
pushing the same medication cart
shift after shift
passing pills to one less resident than before
an open book
pages still
no reader
his story: laboured breathing, Cheyne-Stokes
oscillating, crescendo-decrescendo
no time left to watch the sun gently rouse a reluctant day.
in a high-rise a tired mother rocks her baby back to sleep
to the mesmerizing murmur of a street cleaner
listens to it waltz up the empty boulevard
whisking debris, blood, and tears
the tangible remains of dreams gone astray
yet in the cool, undying quiet of the cemetery
when half expecting
to greet his god
or something else
or nothing
but finding those he lost
singing, dancing
he forgives
all is forgotten.
——-
Lorna Gilbert is a writer/poet from NL, Canada.