We spoke of raccoons

I was dumbfounded in myself
I was concerned over the discomfort of my own arm
while holding your hand as you fought so hard to catch final breaths
your pain so real
but its only mine I can feel

You awoke and you whispered that you had no regrets
Remember at age 6 all alone I was left
you ran off – thought I’d let you forget?

we spoke of raccoons

you spoke of great things that you’d done in your life
seen the world in its beauty made lovers and friends
you left behind worries, empty places. your wife
and than you pulled me in close, being a dad never ends
you left behind smoking told me do whats right
and since you planted that seed I’ve not lit up since
yea I quit too dad but like you I’ll still die

than you asked me to write. I can’t even find words.
we spoke of raccoons, flowers and birds

What breath your last? would you die with eyes closed?
Do you believe that I loved you? Did you know I write prose?
I was a child when you left me and now I’m all grown
I won’t get these answers time is not mine to own

your eyes wide, you blinked and looked scared
I wiped away the drool from your face, your hair
but my arm hurt and throat dry
I just left you there.
I did not cry

looking out the window, breathing from your tube
looking out. from your pillow.

there he is.

the raccoon



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