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This poem was nominated for a Pushcart Prize

I hated watching your body deceive you, call it quits
way before the job was done.  You made a swift
turn, from heavy and strong to weak and helpless.
I hated your worthless body.
I hated your tongue for showering profanity
on anyone who tried to help you.  You said
things that would never spill from your healthy lips,
biting remarks which did not become you.
I hated pulling your pants up and down
like a yo-yo.  I hated the repetitive
chore. I hated lifting you out of your
rolling chair and lowering your body gently
to a mobile pot.
I hated the new bed that held you. hostage,
trapped you in like an endangered animal.
You looked odd, your stout frame
settled into a metal trap with no escape.
I hated brushing your stained dentures
and replacing your hearing aid batteries.
I hated that future meals would be pureed,
soft and slick like slop.
I hated being your caretaker, when for fifty
years I had been your baby girl.
You once lifted me high in the palm of your hands,
and I was not afraid.  But, I could not lift you up.
I hated being the one who watched
your blue eyes slide shut for the last time.
I hated holding your cold hand, the only
thing I could do to help you cross
the very last street.




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