As she was dying we noticed
she would draw up her shoulders
and stare at her knees.
First, just when being helped
to the bathroom,
then when refusing to finish
her hamburger and gravy pulp.
Then when refusing to stay
awake to sing.
There was so much effort.
This is dying? So hard to do.
Then today, I found my subject of study
the hem of my underwear between my knees
as I helped myself to the toilet,
with my shoulder blades gathered up
by a string on my spine.
I wondered how long she had
put so much effort into
each living deed.
may 24 08
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