I Know You’re There
I hear the whoosh-whir of the oxygen tank,
the occasional click. Who knew breathing
would be so full of noise?
I hear the flutter and roll of your eyes
shut to the light for days now, but I see you
seeing where you’re going.
I hear the unsteady drumming of your heart,
the slip-slide of blood hushing in your veins.
I hear the mewling of your memories
slinking off into shadows.
I hear the tip-toe of your fears. How I wish
I could send them waltzing away.
I hear the sigh that slips from your lips,
your want for a drop of moisture – not a drink,
swallowing is an action of the past.
I hear your skin slacken like satin
on white cotton sheets.
I hear the wolf howls of your past
calling you home, the coyote cries and yips,
the long song of lament.
I hear the soft thud of you letting go,
the feathery shush of your leaving.
Ann Farley, poet and caregiver, is happiest outdoors, preferably at the beach. Her poems have appeared in Timberline Review, Third Wednesday, Willawaw Journal, Verseweavers, KOSMOS, and others. Her first chapbook, Tell Her Yes, will be published by The Poetry Box in April, 2022. She lives in Beaverton, OR. Visit www.annfarleypoetry.com
