Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Summer Sonnet 21: John is Dying (And Everyone Gets a Slice)

John fell on the kitchen floor and laid there....
Minutes? Hours? Days? He sighs he 'don't know.'
They're sending him to a nursing home for care
as autonomy takes a final blow.

My mom says the home has a urine smell,
but she supposes they all do these days.
A war veteran trapped, his final hell
Drug-zombie warehouse in Medicare maze.

A few times John saved my Mema from death
when she fell down, shaking and incontinent.
Now John's grandkids break in and commit theft;
ransacking his papers, checkbooks, and rent.

An American hero's drowning end:
at the bottom of the deep blue ocean.

- By Aurin Squire

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