3:22am

seven minutes to wake up

she's there alone
hurting, adjusting
being solo
repositioning herself
or perhaps she's sound
asleep
feeling nothing of judgement
yet it's still seven minutes to wakefulness
as the tears of fatigue
slip down my cheeks
past my wet nose
cause seven minutes is
nothing when you're waking up
to write of loneliness

seven more and I'm real done

letter to my mother
you know all my flaws and yet you love me
I push your limits
I never do fret about how you'll take it or if you'll forget me because of it … I know you'll love me in spite of it … whatever it may be

I spend time with you now
we wait together for the nurses, the meds,
the new linens and bedclothes
we wait well together
a lifetime of waiting on men,
my sister, a train, a check
the sunshine to begin
the rain to stop waiting
silently at times violently
screaming fore each other
and in unison to stop the
pain and the itching
I often wonder that human beings expect other humans to withstand their painful ministartions … perhaps no man should ever expect to overcome such agony and pain and be the same.