She is in the process
Of leaving, having packed
The little she needs,
Lying now beneath the weeds
Of wires and cables
Counting off the miles
And moments passing.
She’s rather be
With the Lord she said
But not than me,
Than the incessant
Importunity and probing
She endures, listening
To the beep, beep, beep
Of a pulled-loose
Connection, dreaming
A dilaudid day
When she could
Run and play,
Climb as high as anyone,
Love me once again.
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