We watch it together, the way the sickness robs
his body’s surface, slackens and liquifies
just as each year the fresh autumn pumpkins
extirpate in summer heat and sink
into grassland.
We have discussed it, we have seen the signs
of the deranging force and we have joked
about how its witchy extortion hovers in no
hurry for us, only drifting our way
with starts and stops, and, we thought its
descent would always be lethargic,
we thought we had ample time
and then late afternoon I was turning on TV
and glanced his way and there it was, kneeling
by the bed, reaching for him, extorting him
from the room. But he resists, holds on tightly
to his air, his thinning matter and I watch
from the chair rocking all night, the extorting
force crawling around my feet, climbing into
the bed purring beside him who sweats in sleep
and I rock and pray to Him I don’t see or know:
Please do not deploy your power in this way.
And my faith takes another blow.
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