After the Ambulance
Carpenter ants picked the T-bone clean.
The dog’s leash tautened toward
a square of sun.
A hallway lamp wavered.
Slice of lit motes through
the cracked bedroom door.
Her slipper under the bed, another on the armchair.
On the shell comb, a single strand.
Her blue robe still damp.
*
a narrow bed in an endless
row of beds tucked tight
like chalk-white pills
cocooned in plastic
no visitors no cellphone no
end to night but the nurse
who relayed messages
telegraphic—send blue
bathrobe Saint Jude
rosary lime-flavored
Jell-O chenille slippers
boar bristle brush
*
why am I here?
pressed in her suitcase
between terrycloth and silk
where is my husband?
on a prescription slip, scribbled
in her physician scrawl
when will I go home?
barely three days before
the words slowed to a trickle