Death

You were hospitalized on Valentine’s Day.
I hoped we could pull magic out of our sleeves,
and help you live long enough to see the New Year.

The hospital smells like a piercing parlor.
Clean, sanitary, hygienic. It clogs up my already stuffy nose.
I feel like vomiting. Someone in a room is screaming.
I can smell fresh bed pans and the stench of death.

When I go home, I collapse in the bathroom and vomit.
The stench of my vomit wasn't half as bad as that of
your hospital room.

The rigor mortis sets in as I pray for the first time
in ten years. Back then, I thought life was simple and
a smile could make a human being happy for days.
I try to smile while I cry, but I end up looking like a madwoman,
screaming and sobbing into my clasped palms.

That's the first time I’ve cried in three months.
I can tell I’ll be doing a lot of it for a little while.

I remember, when I was a little girl,
my teacher asked us what we valued most in life.
People said stuff like "Barbies" and "my new toy firetruck"
and "my favorite gameboy game".

I was the only one who said "I value my Gram."

I bet everyone has changed what they value most
since then, in 1st grade.

I haven't.