Poetry

---

I watched as he decomposed
the red ring defining his eye sockets
the gray triangle from the top of his nose to his lips
his hair like a wet feather
his bulby nose turned sharp, clinging close to its undercartilege
his spotted, cracked lips
his face turned to a skull

This is what Mary must've seen
Mostly hopeful yet
sickend by the gasps
and toxins mixing in the body

But she didn't see what I saw
She waited three days
I, one hour

I saw his eyes turn to face death
Followed by a smile one hour later

Replaying my dad's last breath
I wonder if he asked
"Why have you forsaken me?"

But the setting of his lips into
a Mona Lisa smile sent the message
I'm alive.

I sleep more soundly
after watching death
turn to life

H. Stone © 2005

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE