She came to me some months ago
28.6km – a short night flight
She wore a burnt orange shift
and found me at a white banquet table, on a white chair
She said, as she always did, “I love you, darlin’”

I woke up crying
White sheets in a white room

I went to her some weeks ago
28.6km – bad traffic on a Friday afternoon
She was so thin, ever silent but aware
in the “Cadillac of wheelchairs”
A regal edge in her upturned chin, stubborn glare

After an hour or so, she was taken to bed
I put my hand on her head,

She flinched.