TURNING ON THE LIGHTS
A Poem
The house became a nursing station
when you got sick
Everything was
poised to cause your ease
I could not look at your wound
as I helped you bathe and change your clothes
Your audible pain closed my throat
and dropped
like wet clay
onto my heart
We both slept downstairs
because your movement
was more bearable on the couch
And I wanted to be able to see you
and hear you
just in case
Now you rest downstairs
while I turn on the lights
upstairs in my chambers
The lights have been out
for the past eight days
Since the time my life stilled
and your life took over
Now
Your blood is returning
Your body unfolding
Now
I pick up untangle move back
my life
where I left it
Without
all of this
and
I
turn on
all my lights
As I sit in the chair
near the window of my room
My breath
leaves my face
on a sigh
that travels across the room
down the stairs
Brushes past your check
and becomes a part
of the nighttime sky
