and I am here
in the hospice
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.