My Dying Mother Irene On 19th November 1997

Listen to her death certificate’ Who’d fought for life’s duplicate “Severe Anorexia Secondary to status asthmaticus”. Oh! How it had rung worse than Amnesia And had meant some asthmatic curse. Several struggle -out “God, Receive my soul’’ As death bell was about to toll I, to the hilt, a struck-dumb spectator For the longest seconds, tongue-tied commentator Soon, rapidly pondering not why she should expire But why villainous terminator should soon acquire… At conspiratorial 9:25 pm Breathing becoming lame, A kick-started rigor- mortis locking her jaw, My father striving to restrain a law My own hand withdrawing from a once-banging heart, Never wanting a second nearing of what should be soundless. A new contentment with a mentally arranged cart That should to a fridge make it noiseless… A resuming night nurse in a provocative see-through, Richly delivering part of what Irene had said as true.. A hospital of some ineptitude For losses borne with fortitude. On this day, twenty- four years you left Rock of ages for me cleft.