Jon Bales Dying
Your once handsome face
had morphed into a mask of dry leather.
You were hard to look at.
Yet your eyes were still an improbable blue
that could have sucked in the dead.

I was lying next to you
in your hospital bed
your elbow pressed against my side
I could tell you were freezing.

I was reading to you
from Breakfast At Tiffany’s
you picked at the little growths
on your face.

The night nurse came in
abruptly turned and left.
In a voice sounding like
you had smoked too many cigarettes
you said

“If looks could kill, we would both be dead.”

September 11, 2015