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Watching him die from 3 to 5 to 6:39 on a sunwashed tuesday morning
Turned away from him, you face
a dazzling field of stars,
a hospital floor gleaming in blue moonlight,
Vermillion-leaved treetops
swaying in fall winds.
A tear shimmering in white moonlight,
dewing cashmere with melancholy;
A loved one’s hand’s fleeting grip
as they leave you, the meager underside
of their outstretched arm lit
by the faint light bouncing off the eggshell-white tiles below.
A beam of sunlight haloes scarlet tree-crowns and
Shines through fourth-floor hospital window,
Sparking a blaze of glints from
epoxy floor.
Starlight pours in and splashes and sits
and bathes you;
Your lungs expand and sip the air-light cocktail
the room’s offering,
Your muscles loosen, aches fade,
Your throbbing neurons forget
of other moments, your mind
rests in the illuminated present.
You look forward,
shedding a tear,
parting lips into a smile,
facing him
all the while.
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we're all stuck in a room with him