referred to as companion
where i work
i sat with the old man
on monday afternoons
he would sit in chair
or lay at angles no less than 30
i would have book on lap
he, eyes shut
there was the option
of watching the sun set
quietly it passed
only interrupted
by small signs of discomfort
another blanket, a chill
or the toilet, sir?
yes, he'd say
once, with effort
from both
him with his troubled airway
and blue eyes seemingly
looking through time
me with understanding
we discussed which things to learn from
he mentioning the advantage
of many sources
he turned away
and it seemed as if by not looking
i was gone
later, in a quieter room
with windows on both sides
there was less to do
tubes, went both in and out
and there was more time for dreaming
or waiting
i listened to his breath
was it anxiety or helplessness
that made those pauses hard
a stranger by this old man
the last day i spent with him
a record player was there
dusty black albums and the airiness
of the needle in groove
wanting to do something
i played it loud enough for his ear
halfway through the piece the rattling
his cough in his bony chest
compounded the drama in tchaikovsky
loud and quiet, music and 97 year body
i wiped away yellow grey phlegm
it surfaced in his mouth
a moth escaping with wet wings
i put a hand on his back
this touch, i learned
tries to bring comfort.
the record ended before the coughing
i don't remember it stopping,
it did. before his wife returned
with eastern europe accent
to hear of his evening
spend another night with him
i went home
left a wife with a husband
returned to mine
i wanted to mention
listening to records
this thought is for me though
all of this is
thinking about it
i will probably sit again
do this again
listen for someone's breath
to mention the records
referred to as companion
where i work
i sat with the old man
on monday afternoons
he would sit in chair
or lay at angles no less than 30
i would have book on lap
he, eyes shut
there was the option
of watching the sun set
quietly it passed
only interrupted
by small signs of discomfort
another blanket, a chill
or the toilet, sir?
yes, he'd say
once, with effort
from both
him, with his troubled airway
(blue eyes seemingly
looking through time)
me, with understanding
we discussed which things to learn from
he mentioning the advantage
of many sources
he turned away
and it seemed as if by not looking
i was gone
later, in a quieter room
with windows on both sides
there was less to do
tubes, went both in and out
and there was more time for dreaming
or waiting
i listened to his breath
was it anxiety or helplessness
that made those pauses hard
a stranger by this old man
the last day i spent with him
a record player was there
dusty black albums and the airiness
as the needle traced
wanting to do something
i played it loud enough for his ear
halfway through the piece the rattling
his cough in his bony chest
crossed the drama in tchaikovsky
loud and quiet, music and 97 year body
i wiped away yellow grey phlegm
it surfaced in his mouth
a moth escaping with wet wings
put a hand on his back
this touch, i learned
brings comfort at times.
the record ended before the coughing
i don't remember it stopping,
it did before she returned
with eastern europe accent
to hear of his evening
spend another night with him
i went home
left wife with husband
at end of life
i wanted to mention the records
this gesture for me though(i may
have made it)
all of this is(for me)
thinking about it
i will probably sit again
do this again
listen for someone's breath
where i work
i sat with the old man
on monday afternoons
he would sit in chair
or lay at angles no less than 30
i would have book on lap
he, eyes shut
there was the option
of watching the sun set
quietly it passed
only interrupted
by small signs of discomfort
another blanket, a chill
or the toilet, sir?
yes, he'd say
once, with effort
from both
him, with his troubled airway
(blue eyes seemingly
looking through time)
me, with understanding
we discussed which things to learn from
he mentioning the advantage
of many sources
he turned away
and it seemed as if by not looking
i was gone
later, in a quieter room
with windows on both sides
there was less to do
tubes, went both in and out
and there was more time for dreaming
or waiting
i listened to his breath
was it anxiety or helplessness
that made those pauses hard
a stranger by this old man
the last day i spent with him
a record player was there
dusty black albums and the airiness
as the needle traced
wanting to do something
i played it loud enough for his ear
halfway through the piece the rattling
his cough in his bony chest
crossed the drama in tchaikovsky
loud and quiet, music and 97 year body
i wiped away yellow grey phlegm
it surfaced in his mouth
a moth escaping with wet wings
put a hand on his back
this touch, i learned
brings comfort at times.
the record ended before the coughing
i don't remember it stopping,
it did before she returned
with eastern europe accent
to hear of his evening
spend another night with him
i went home
left wife with husband
at end of life
i wanted to mention the records
this gesture for me though(i may
have made it)
all of this is(for me)
thinking about it
i will probably sit again
do this again
listen for someone's breath
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