Hanging by a thread

the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.
― Sylvia Plath, 

Her tightly veined hands cup water
I stroke her hair gliding over
Her forehead I bend to kiss her
She repeats my name and I hers
A little gentle verbal tennis
That exhausts her. She leans
Back into the pillow. My sister
Slightly shifts the sheet above
The cellulitis on her leg. Her
Breathing rate accelerates
Then calms. The morphine deals
With the worst of the pain. A young
Nurse comes to speak to us about
Pathways. ‘Cul-de-sac’ I mutter.

◄ regret

Catastrophe: the banality of evil ►

Comments

Profile image

John Marks

Tue 24th May 2022 09:32

Thank YOU Bethany!

Profile image

Bethany Sallis

Sun 22nd May 2022 00:02

great poem and a fantastic poetess never to be forgotten

thank you John

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message