I had forgotten the slow ways of death,
interminable days of quiet uncertainty,
punctuated by necessary offices and awkward
visits. Years ago, a great aunt's
always darkened house, wood stove
over-heated, smell of Vicks and perfume,
constant breathing of machines, drone
of white gospel the only other sound,
as if we all wanted to slow things down,
keep them as they were, let nothing go,
and even the slightest unnecessary noise
might startle time awake.
Now, it all comes back again,
interminable days of quiet uncertainty,
punctuated by necessary offices and awkward
visits. Years ago, a great aunt's
always darkened house, wood stove
over-heated, smell of Vicks and perfume,
constant breathing of machines, drone
of white gospel the only other sound,
as if we all wanted to slow things down,
keep them as they were, let nothing go,
and even the slightest unnecessary noise
might startle time awake.
Now, it all comes back again,
r.kv.r.y. quarterly literary journal
spring 2009 poetry
bedside manner by scott owens
spring 2009 poetry
bedside manner by scott owens
