for d.
When the machines clicked and ceased
beeping, I was almost certain.
There was no whisper of breath,
no pulse twitching in your jugular.
Most convincingly,
the machines had stopped their radar.
They had said this might happen.
I felt warmth surge
out of me, leaving only
frozen, tingling fingers,
an ice block for a chest,
and a vague, persistent nausea.
And--I will admit it--
I was angry at you, sick
with rage and loss,
as if you'd cut off my arm.
But as I reached out for you,
a trembling hand grasping
for my phantom limb,
I stopped, was resurrected,
and looked straight into your now-open eyes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment