“Close my eyes just to look at you…”

I recall her sitting in the living room.

(That’s morbidly funny.)

Bathrobe and nightshirt.

Catheter and bag – filling slowly with blood and urine.

Chemo chíc.

 

 

Her best friend and I nearby.

She starts expounding on delicate subjects from days past.

I chuckle, saying:

Mom, should you be talking about this?

 

 

She stares back, Death swaying behind dilated pupils.

The glint in them is light reflected off its scythe.

She retorts:

“I’ve had a head full of secrets for more than 25 years.

I have so much dirt on so many people.

I don’t care; it’s coming out now.”

 

 

Most would recoil in horror.

But I smile.

I just smile.

Horrors, after all, are my stock and trade.

 

 

 

Ω

 

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2 Responses to ““Close my eyes just to look at you…””

  1. Bill Powell Says:

    Goddam dude, I thought I was hardened beyond redemption, but your writing is making me think about things I never would before. Fuck you in a good way if you get what I mean. Bastard LOL.

    • Many thanks, Bill.

      And I take that “fuck you” as a high compliment, actually.

      “I thought I was hardened beyond redemption, but your writing is making me think about things I never would before.”

      This and TempestTeacup’s comment on the prior post are two of the greatest things I believe, as an artist, could ever be said to me.

      My sincerest thanks for it.

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