We do not speak of death

    by Risa Denenberg

Unable to do the crossword puzzle

or bring coffee mug to muted lips,

she sits at the table rehearsing

how she will stand. I wonder what

she thinks.

Hold on or let go? Resist or rest

in that common bed where

we dream ourselves asleep?

Now she lifts her body against the gravity

of exhaustion, treads step-by-step,

kitchen to foyer. Steadied by household

walls, she disappears down the hallway.

© 2012 Risa Denenberg

Risa Denenberg is an aging hippy currently living in Tacoma, WA. She earns her keep as a nurse practitioner and has worked in end-of-life care for many years. She is drawn to exploring themes of suffering and death and their intersections with religion, medicine, and art. Recent poems have appeared online at Sein und Werden, The Yale Journal of the Humanities in Medicine, YB, Lily, and Escape into Life.

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