Thursday, 3 October 2013


My dad’s face looks like a drowning
child when a doctor asks
if he remembers who he is.

His tongue, without strength to lift
himself from where he sunk
to the bottom of his watery brain.

I want to dive into the black and grey pool 
of his medicated eyes, knowing that he is too deep
into illness to surface.

Silence floods
the air in the room.
I save my dads breath

by speaking for him
I tell the doctor
he is my dad

and the doctor looks at me
like I rescued somebody
who has already drowned.

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