Some come, bend down
And fill her ears with
Complex messages of love
And understanding, wishes
For wonders in her
Afterlife. I sit across
The room worried that
I won’t be able to get her
To give her water once they leave.
She will not suck from the straw,
But clamps her teeth upon it.
And when I hold an open
Cup she lets it dribble
Down her shirt. I think
As her friend rises with
A beatific smile, I’ll try again.
I’m growing weary. She has
No doubt absorbed all that she
Heard, but how can I get her to
Understand that she must drink?
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