James Summa

Grey as The Clouds

She is carried in
By a stranger
Like a sack of rags
Laid on the couch
Comatose eyes
Glazed
Half open
Spotted skin
Drapes
Over a waste
Of ribs and vein

Faint laughter
Drifts through
Children play
In the distance
Cars pass
Slowly
Birds crowd the sky
An unwashed sheet

We move her hand
More a claw now
Already cold
Turning blue
Coax her
To pet the cat
But it squirms away
And hides

She flounders
Like a hooked fish
Mouth
Retched open
Gulping air
Congested heart
Failing
Eroded chest
Heaving
In raging waves
Gasping

And just as she draws
Her last breath
At the exact instant
Her suffering stilled
The phone rings
Alarming us
Out of our shock

A salesman
On the other end
Asking us
If we want
Our carpets cleaned
Special offer
This week only
Two rooms
For the price
Of one