Bonanza
The musty smell in the hallway
of bleach and spongebaths and adult diapers
was muted by the clang of metal spoons
against plastic trays filled with pureed pot pies.
I passed the more mobile in the hallway,
sitting in their wheelchairs,
staring at me as if I were some sort of apparition,
mouths agape and eyes wide
when I smiled and said "Hello".
I peeked through the doors and witnessed the once alive
succumbing to the labial caress of immobility
and the pelvic thrust of humiliation.
Each staring up at the yellow ceiling,
arms glued to the bed,
unable to stay a thin string of drool
or hold steady the memories floating in
near sighted eyes.
Pneumatic lungs breathed shallow breaths.
Dumb mouths sucked every last gasp of life,
gaining moments spoon-fed and white-walled,
wasted in an adjustable death-bed
while Bonanza blared in the lobby.
When I finally reached you,
you were so small and frail,
your legs bent awkwardly
on top of a bed pad.
There was nothing left to indicate
that you had spent your life
weathering storms,
bones bending in the wind like young oak trees,
holding fast again and again.
There was nothing on the thin blanket
or the cat picture on the wall
or the way your thin hair draped on the pillow,
nothing that told anyone that your spirit
was so magnificent and so bold,
that it had the gall to leave your body
ahead of you.
I kissed your head
and said all the things that one wants to say
to someone on their death bed.
I put my hand on your slowly pulsing heart
and asked it to have mercy enough
to stop beating.
I wondered if I should find some really profound
last words to say to you
but none came, so I simply said
"Goodbye, Gramma"
and walked ghostlike back down the hall,
overwhelmed by the stench
of the soft, slow, and dirty fvck of death.
Helen's note: I particularly like the way enjambment reinforces the emotional daze in the last stanza, almost as if you're careening off the walls in the hallway. Is there a way to eliminate the final comma to reinforce that?
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"I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice. Here comes the smolder." - Flynn Rider, "Tangled"
Last edited by 3894 : 02-11-2008 at 05:15 AM.
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