is dying quietly in lines I drew,
space we flew, paced in mind,
I never thought the action of shear
could bear such
such soul, such crushing heart.
That little room where we discussed his closing
was but thin pen.
How can it hold my bursting eyes,
my crippled chin, my gasp.
I am so proud to give him this bed, this moment,
and wish, I wish I never had.