THE TIME

You'd better come down, my brother said.
It's the time. I know death when I see it.
There's a clear look.

The sweet, dire smell of hospitals,
stale piss and disinfectant,
and baby powder.

The nurse said, Has anyone
been away? I said, Me.
Ah, she said. They wait. It's often like that.

My sister said, I was holding
his hand. He winced
like pulling off a bandage,

he frowned. My mother said,
I need some time
with him. Not very long. Alone.