An alliance of women by the bedside:
Sisters by twos, 3 generations of strength
(Though certainly, it felt otherwise.)

When it came, I was ripe for escaping.
She stopped breathing, we looked,
and gave her our final kisses.
There’d been a robot breathing on the bed for days.

My sister didn’t want the body taken;
but they talked her ‘round within the hour.
I called the nurse quickly and packed up her things.

My Nan, who liked tea in a glass teacup
and sent sandwiches back to hospital kitchens
for the ample offence of ‘squiggly lettuce’;
was already doing something new.