Thoughts on a Palliative Visit
The little blue bear
traps the heat
of your bare skin
on its fur
sitting at your side
cradled in your arm
by accident
a small gesture
of comfort
the machines click
and gasp and
your eyes are still
like his
your chest is still
rising and falling
shifting little bear
I forget you do not
expand on your own
I forget what
is keeping you alive
I look at the bear
I look at the bear
the air is tight around us;
we are a lung
holding its breath.
When this room is empty
of family and IVs
and your beaten frame
I wonder about his fate.
I wonder where he will go
this memento
of choked goodbyes
Will they leave him
is it too hard
remembering him there
a softness at your side
holding your last breaths