Trigger Warning
Her last night
was ordinary,
except for her dying of course,
which made the owl’s hoot
more of a tolling bell
than a mating cry.
It made me look twice
at the items on her dresser.
Perfume sprays, photographs,
no longer odds and ends
but a body of work –
even the body itself.
She left us in
such an unrehearsed state –
being alive when she wasn’t.
She was infinity
whatever the definition.
We couldn’t decide
whether to be jealous or afraid.
And we were witness to her passing,
a family brought together,
fighting for bedside space
to be first to see her soul depart.
She said something
none of us clearly heard
then closed her eyes and slept –
around the clock,
around a million clocks.