I know how this should be:
I've seen it, you see,
In soap operas,
Movies.
Your eyes are closed,
As if in sleep.
Perfect peachy skin
Atop a snow white pillow
Under flawlessly matched sheets.
The heart monitor,
Quiet bleeps.
The ventilator,
A steady hiss.
None of that is this.
Your eyes
Stuck open
Seeing without sight
Yellow sclera
Dumb tears streaming.
Tubes, taped to your face
Delicate skin torn
Where nurses
Repositioned them
To feed you
To heal you
You never liked being told
What to do.
Your whole torso spasms
Spastic,
Every 40 seconds.
A machine
Forces your lungs to act.
Your hands are warm
From hemodialysis
But don't respond
When we each grab one
Give it a kiss.
We spend the day
Brushing your hair
Telling stories
Singing songs.
Praying prayers.
You're not there.
Hospital staff
Are more lovely
If less pretty
Than on TV.
When the time comes
They gently walk us
From the room
Close the curtain
Remove the tubes
Close the eyes.
We resume our positions
Your body still vaguely
Convulsing
As if it remembers
The machine
But is slowly forgetting.
40 seconds
Become 45
Become 50.
Spasms turn into
Shakes turn into
Stillness.
A stethoscope tells the nurse
What we all know.
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