OUR LAST COMMUNION
The last time that I saw him
He lay upon a hospital bed,
Strapped down and thrashing
to and fro.
But when he heard my voice, he slowed
And paused to listen as the
words
Within his brain were registered.
Relaxing in relief, he smiled
For that one moment, when he
knew his child.
He chuckled then with
pleasure--
A greeting I would one day treasure.
The white cells in his
bloodstream gnawed
Each other, and the virus spawned
Where there was no immunity:
It sapped his store of memories,
Until my image blurred and
flowed
Away, and he relapsed into his throes.
But over forty years loom
From then till now, and we still commune--
At least I do. What if the
dead
Were not so smitten with their friends
And family as we might be
With them? We, who need memory
To make it all cohere; while
they
Must clear their minds to live beyond the
grave.
