DEATH Poem: Last Days with Susan, by Heather Griffith

Your last case of Diet Coke will
never be opened, you lose specifics of who I am.
Your last birthday gift to me, the words
I know you love me.

Gregorian chants in the background
facts fall away, organs
stop working, history between us
ceases to be events, just elongated
moments sitting together in late
summer sun, warming us
to the inevitable transition.

Your mind a patchwork of past memories
working in a newspaper office, childhood Iowa green pastures
I follow the trail as long as possible, but
know I will watch you, my mother, journey
as I stay behind. Until that moment arrives,
I feed you popsicles when you forget how.

Author: poetryfest

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