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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.