*

*

reach for the air

the hair unwashed sweat

stale sheets, moldy bread

no one wants to eat, so

coleslaw slimes, melon oozes

meals cooked with kindness, no,

freeze it all, tv vacant

naps if breath is freed

hot dark dreams

or lie awake until light

*

water, Gatorade, tea

five senses distant,

in Central America, perhaps,

walk the dog

on the driveway

retreat breathless

to the wrinkled bed

Five of us succombed in July: my husband, my daughter, two granddaughters and myself. All at once.