Old Woman

She slipped into a coma,

fell away,

her ghost groping;

not blind, but blinded,

as if the life in her head

were too bright.

We bundled her things,

squeezing shoulders,

taking deep breaths

dizzy with relief.

A nurse hastily covering

gray naked toes.

The old woman found herself

on her mother’s lap.

Dead pets,

impossibly young lovers,

the father she hated

but still dreamed of making love to;

they spiral together in a drop of water

as ageless as rain.

A funeral service:

we put a stone on her head

then left her. For a while,

the new turned soil was silent,

but then her condition

began to shake the earth

with girlish laughter.