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visits from death
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something about death the room was dark and empty
other than a floor lamp.
other than a window leaking dusk,
there was no light.
the walls were slate
like hopsital waiting rooms.
i stood there,
anticipating
something.
then, i saw him.
looking just as i remembered him last.
healthy, loving, alive.
i ran up to him,
"i can't believe it's you"
with my arms reaching out,
"i can't believe it's you"
he tried telling me
something.
all i can remember is how he asked for me
to tell my mother
something important,
something forgotten,
something reassuring.
it was as if the world picked up speed
and all his words were in half time.
everything was moving so fast
i couldn't make his visit last.
how i wish i could remember
what he said deep in my slumber,
maybe he could have lived through me.
it all ended so soon,
i was barely able to catch my breath
before old papa went home to death.
