Posted in Death

Last Resort

It was a small item on page five
his family thanked the lifeguards and paramedics
they said he came here every summer, fishing
said he died doing what he loved
in the place he loved.

The mathematics of infinity.

Brief chest crushed sharp
folding groundward to eternal anaesthesia
or slow subtraction of strength
relentless addition of atrophy
constant division of self
to end in multiplication of assistance
of shuffling corridors
pureed food
not in time call buttons
soiled sheets and bedpans
and square root of what once was.

For the back story click Backstage
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Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.