Text sizing:
A
A
A
Oncology Times:
doi: 10.1097/01.COT.0000351458.76778.ea
Articles

Mother's Day

Elbert Mcdonald, Sally RN

Free Access
Collapse Box

Author Information

The dying woman's breath

clung to my skin.

Her breath went home on my clothes,

stayed with me as I greeted my family.

They couldn't smell it

but I could.

I showered it off

and opened Mother's Day cards.

She lay in the hospital bed,

breathing toward her husband.

He gathered these breaths, counting

them down to the resurrection.

Four per minute

Three per minute

Fourteen

Eleven

He said, “No oxygen.”

“No Tylenol.”

“The Ativan.”

“Dilaudid.”

Clear eyes, low voice

awaiting the resurrection

Breath like a halo

around the bed.

© 2009 Lippincott Williams & Wilkins, Inc.

Login

Article Tools

Images

Share