For you, George.

[judecorp]

I've never been
a quitter; in fact, it's
often been said that
once I lock my tenacious
jowls around something, there is
no turning back. But
something about the way
you're lying there, something about
the way your shallow chest
rattles when it expands makes me
want to grab one of those scratchy
white industrial towels
and throw it
into the ring for you.

~//~

I remember when I met him:
your big Buick broke a belt
down by the Millinocket exit and
he had to come and tow it.
He wasn't expecting to see
your girlfriend but he smiled all the same.
He smiled, too, the night I showed
him my engagement ring; with thick,
outstretched, wood-chopping arms he
welcomed me into your family.
He smiled the day we were married,
his uncomfort in a tuxedo second only
to the awkwardness of his
newly fleeting mind.
Today you asked me to separate
the loss of your father from
the loss of our dreams.
I hope you can forgive my inability,
in my heart and in my memory
the two are irreconcilably fused.