Last Visit

and I am here

in the hospice

feeling small

caught like a sparrow by fear

and the selfishness of thinking

Not yet me, not yet me;

Her neighbour’s arm has skin

With a glister that is leaden and inflamed

A face that is wracked with pain.

The physio and I move unspeaking

Rattling around our thoughts-

The humming of the bed’s movement

Always closer to that edge where

All money and riches go over.

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