gone
gone
she's gone.
Emptiness
in place of her was
astounding. He'd thought it'd happened
long before, slowly, insidiously, dementia.
But it hadn't, not until now. She had existed and now she did not. Not at all, as
if not ever. And people hurried around as if this outrageous fact could be overcome by making sensible arrangements. He, too,
obeyed the customs, signing where he was told to sign, arranging—as they said—for the
remains. What an excellent word—"remains". Like something
left to dry out in, in sooty
layers in a cup-
board. He found
himself
out
side.
No comments:
Post a Comment