Five Points, Vol. 15 No. 3Fall 2013
From Lydia Davis, “I suppose obsession is something many or most of us are prone to at least from time to time.”
I Watched You Disappear
That fucking doctor killed you. Killed you.
But I keep sending e-mails to your account. It’s still open.
Your husband told me he heard you calling him the other night.
You should see the way he matches your daughter’s clothes.
You would snort water out of your nose laughing.
Today a green hummingbird hovered right before my face.
Are you there? Where?
Are the others there, too?
You looked like Stevie Nicks in your scarf and sunglasses.
That trip to Peru never happened. You should have spent the money.
You were so thin by the end.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Your son is on suicide watch. He can’t be left alone.
I keep finding your feathers.
Is it true that the morphine worked? The nurses were just guessing, near the end.
I’m sorry that I didn’t want your nightgown. I should have taken it. It scared me too much.
I give it one year, max.
I hate spring, its prettiness.
Your heart kept beating. Why didn’t it just stop?
You left in a bandana from your drawer of bandanas.
You pulled yourself up one last time on the bed rails.
You left into No More Letters.
You left three translations of Akhmatova.
You left your Lady of Guadalupe by the window.
You left your lungs, live, spine.
You left in the thinnest hours of the morning.
You left on your last out breath.
You left into silence.
You left me. You left them. You left us.
I watched you disappear.