One breath, two. I cannot see you,
alone, prone,
sloughed soles, blood clots.
Knots in trees, these,
your exhalations, and irregular.
Ventilator hum
becomes soughing
boughs, the branches of your fruit trees.
Your garden's lemons, crushed.
Sweet-sour runnels from them
tunnel, funnel,
spill into, fill us.
Troughs inside our hearts
trench, pool into you.
Fourteen
masked family members
vigil in the parking lot
outside your room.
I can't be there to pray with them
so I play hymns to Mary.
Listen!
Oh, Mother of Stars!
How yellow bright our love for him!