Saturday, October 13, 2012


When I was in the hospital,
I wanted you there.

Later, you shrugged,
offering no excuses.

"What could I have done
that the doctors weren't
already doing?" You asked.

You plunged your hands
into your pockets
and turned toward the road.

I have watched you walk away
so many times, growing smaller
as the horizon takes you in. I have
memorized the shape you make
when you hunch your shoulders forward,
as if a stance can somehow
shield one from the cold.
It's always winter
when you disappear.

What could you have done
that the doctors
weren't already doing?

I didn't answer then.
I won't now.

You cannot explain
to someone else
the depth
of their own power.

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