Thursday, October 27, 2011


The door buzzes, bangs back
wheeled through
the heavy steel doors
to help at last

How could that not bring you back?
How many times we played that game.
How many hours in bland beige rooms
waiting for those doors to open
waiting for that fifteen minutes
waiting for something like information
waiting for a decision

Finding back ways in,
sitting quietly, holding
your hand, praying
or something like it

And when the rules
don't apply
No visiting hours
just go on in
And would you like us
to call the Chaplain?

And the cold
Until at four in the dark
some sweet unseen angel
drapes a warm blanket around
my shoulders, your fingers
turning black with cold
between mine

Sometimes during the long
sleepless nights
I felt you, gently
curl up around me
offer me your presence

18 October 2011

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