by Sanam Sheriff
1.
Grandfather clock hands,
Winter in his hair,
A watch, a tie, a silverware smile.
Veins like rivers on a map,
Skin like crumpled paper
- All still alive.
2.
Screams from his bedroom,
Broken glass on the floor.
Panicked, helpless eyes,
The way they flicker
Like a moth towards the light.
3.
I watch from the back of an ambulance
As they hover over him- vultures.
Road, red-yellow-green, road,
The van rocking like a carousel horse
Too many rides away from home.
4.
White walls, white sheets, white noise-
The opposite of a wedding gown,
Tubes like rivers on a map,
Machines, men, masks,
A mountain on the bed-
Still, still, still breathing.
5.
Orchids.
A crowd dressed like crows,
Prayer, screams, tears-
All falling on lost ears.
Loss- not of a key or a game,
But of the way his grandfather clock hands
Would jetplane to catch me
As I called his name.
* "Maut" is the word for death in Hindi