When the heart stops beating,
should we let death occur naturally
↓
Yes
↓
Unable to pump blood fast enough, his heart is failing.
No cure, just the waiting.
↓
He calls me on the phone to tell me he wants to die.
I never thought about the suffering,
he says before hanging up, leaving “I love you, dad” suspended in the air.
↓
His words become small birds,
↓
red-chested finches dimming on the branch,
tiny flames, brief as kindness.
↓
No
↓
He doesn’t leave the bed anymore,
only looks up to curse the rain.
↓
The tree in the backyard is blooming,
a blush of leaves
urges forward
from nothing.
↓
The body holds on,
↓
its thirsty roots stretching outward
like arteries in his stented heart.
