My father would say
Always pray
for a beautiful death.
He didn't know
It would sting him.
16 July 2009.
A light fall
was a great fall.
Oozing. Stitches.
Confinement.
There's a coma after mind.
Months fell into the space.
At dark dust,
A full stop
after two hiccups.
Who'd say
He would die that way?
Our choices are limited.
Only prayers could
increase some of them.