(br e akd o w n)

 

 

 

We were in our robes. I sneezed.

 

She looked at me and didn't say anything.

 

I tried not to notice the stain on her collar.

 

I was drinking cold coffee. She was drinking cabernet. 

 

Her skull-cap was crooked.

 

I tried not to notice this.

 

She smokes two cigarettes to my one.

 

It makes me think about ratios.

 

I have two lungs to her one.

 

I didn't want to think of this.

 

We get up to go inside. I

 

reminded her to put on her oxygen.

 

(Sometimes she forgets.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[ATG]

A very interesting poem about what seems to be someone taking care of a sick person.

[Alicia Schroeder]

Nice work.

[roarke]

Capturing the essence of moments is the holy grail of writing. Knowing how to present them is the alchemy. In rarified air, sometimes the oxygen is just coincidental.
Nice choices here. Eternities to be gained from each line's pause of thought.

[DavidRyanM]

"It makes me think about ratios." I love that line. You always have that one line that stands out to me more than the rest and I immediately fall in love with it and want to steal it. They're always that part that you could easily throw into any other story and it would be just as strong. The last line actually changes the rest of the poem and I like that. It actually makes you go back and read it again. Well done, darlin. It's amazing to me how you can take something that's this hard to go through and yet view it from afar and comment on it as if it isn't your own life. (I think I stole that last part from what Tim said about your writing, but f**k him, I typed it first.)