Last Rites
When you have
an hour to live
what matters then
is Christ in a pyx
in the vest pocket
of an old priest
called at midnight
by a nurse
who drives miles
through sleet
and finds your room
in the hospital
Donal Mahoney
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
