We sit together and watch George W. explain
British Intelligence. The irony
makes you laugh.
You give me the blue topaz
your parents gave you
when life lay fresh, undetermined.
We discuss a sign from the afterlife,
a signal you're ok. You indulge me.
I dust your shelves. Rearrange your belongings.
Clear space for the oxygen tank.
Sweep your front porch. Change your diaper.
Make you laugh, from the gut.