OK. So it was expected
that any breath could be her last.
I’ve sat with her so many times
as I raked over gripes from my past.
But what I’m still sitting with now
is the contrast between life and death:
one minute her chest’s up and down;
the next she’s drawn her last breath.
There was calmness in that in-between moment,
with sounds of her last snores and sighs,
as I sat in my ambivalent seat
making heartfelt, what-if goodbyes.