Goodbye

I could distinguish more finely, and clearly
to please an absent-minded editor;

but it’s better I think to forget
where I came from and those
whom I left there, with their voices
immediate and real – but not mine –

and to whisper fragments such as
we stretched across the silences,

words which fell into the rustling gaps
between the wheezing gasps and rasping coughs
that emptied my father’s tired lungs of air
and his TB.   In isolation.

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