99: coma, interlude 22


sometimes pauses come
at awkward periods.
In this case the thought
of my father closing
his fingers
around the guide bar
of the saw
before the chain
had a chance to stop

followed my hand to the door
knob soon after the soft knock
came and the silence behind
the door as I reached
to turn it brought terror to me,
a momentary electricity

and I drew my hand back,
wondering why
the image, the terror
for such an everyday procedure.

why now, with Lucy gone,
everyone gone,
my father at home
my mother at home?

why now?

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