I long to be close to
where your beating heart
was among its last beats.
I sit on the couch where
we spent your last night —
but cannot bring myself
to sit on the cushion where
life was fading from you
and you laid against me.
I didn’t sleep, for vigilance
you didn’t sleep, for pain —
so tired, so dazed, so lucid,
so knowing, so loved, —
            so gone.

—Terri Guillemets