Rega

she was 91
it ended on the bathroom floor
in the old folks home
not with family shrouding
not comforted by the sight
of her sister, nor one of her
two sons
she hit her face on the side
of a toilet bowl
and dilapidated
down
like a ruined building
her breath falling
somewhere short of her
crashing bones

a nurse
assigned to the floor
discovered her body
an hour or two
later
and phoned one of the
two sons
funeral arrangements
were made
and relatives flown in
from distant
homes

we watched as laborers pitched
dirt over her coffin
we said our parting words
but nobody was there for her
in her moment of death
nor the many days
before

I think of her now
while laying in the grass
she is sleeping
under a bed cover
the edges I cannot make out
there is my grandmother’s head
with no place for eyes
and a hand drawn towards her husband’s
arms
she recognizes him
like Eve
arresting Adam
they are laying naked there
for what appears to me
the first time

a church bell tolls
time drifts in bay winds
I lose sight of my clothes
a snail set to music
ascends a single clove
the earth rolling
in hillocks
green and unmarked
splits open to an
empty vault
I do not fall in
I witness by the rim
and wait

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