Friday, August 19, 2011

The last breath warmed

We waited with him all the night
She in her blanket
Me in my coat and boots
Like the watchers of the tower
Thinking that sometime that night
The sappers mines would be sprung
And we would tumble among the falling stones
Crushed and bruised among the ruins
And so we did not sleep
And at dawn, breathing still came

She rose to boil water for my tea
And I looked at the profile of her face
Long the shadow of her eyes
"It was the doctor" I said
"Bad enough that he killed him
but he made us all poor in the bargain."
But she said nothing though her lips
sang silently psalms as tired as her face.

"What should I care for all of that."
I said. "It is not even a single spark."
As the sun rose over the hill light burst in.
The gray room became a cold furnace of color.

Just then the dying man coughed,
his blue eyes opened
Every whisker of his beard stood out
around his dry gray lips.

She dropped the kettle and fell down at his side.
I remained standing in terror
Never had I seen...
"He," the lips said. "He."
The eyes stared down the long nose
And met mine.

We three silently exchanged accusations.
And I wished him dead.
But the eyes kept staring
long after the last breath ended.


Thus it is I conclude my contributions to the sterquilinium with this final inspection of mortality. I think it, perhaps, my best as it contains all my thoughts on the matter.

Quod Erat Demonstratum

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

sorry - you don't have the option of abandoning this. it is too good & you are in debt. this "last" post affirms that you have forgone the option of letting this go.