To the Moon (but not back this time)

quiet comfortable floral decor
could have easily been the Hilton
except my father lay dying
between his wife and me

his shallow breath
a silent movie playing in the background
white feet on their way to bones
poking from under the covers

his bald head
nodded in peaceful sleep
when the rise of his chest
stopped too long

as if to play a joke
another deep breath in
not ready to let go
as we crowd him to comfort ourselves

before we say goodbye
like a baby again
an occasional sleeping smile
as his organs shut down

perhaps he was laughing
at his father’s joke, a prankster
gone before, here to give my dad a grin
as he prepares for his departure.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s