A carrot escapes his spoon
as he eats his soup alone

The table is set for two
but there’s no one else at home

The broth from the plastic bowl
dribbles down his chin

The bread is growing mold
but it doesn’t bother him

He sits back in his chair
and closes his blue eyes

Birds chirp in the chill spring air
and he is satisfied

There is a call from the man next door
to men in clean white suits

He's not breathing anymore
with his face in the bowl of soup