RIC S. BASTASA
Jocelyn... - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA
she is pale, white, emaciated,
on that last day, her hands made most of the grips
she did not want Chona to leave her in that room
she wanted more pillows, but then the pain
despite the high dose of morphine
and the softness of the pillows and the coldness of the
did not diminish the pain until she finally
made the final gaze and said the
last words, a la cell phone
i am checking off.Then she died.
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