We had to take
your rings off
because your
fingers
were swelling up
and I cringed
because I knew
you'd never
put them
back on.
Death
steals your jewelry
when your hands go cold
and the fever comes
and the morphine drip
is dripping slow,
dripping slow
and steady
I hope that somewhere
in your morphine
dreams you knew
that I was there
to hold your rings
and rub your
shaking hands.