Vigil

There is someone dying in this house.
I see it in the hunching of your shoulders
in the way you hold your breath
superfluous
a moment longer than your body asks
and treasure it
against her final expiration.

There is someone dying in this house.
I see it as you walk the corridors
away from me.
We have never spoken
yet your body chants a silent eulogy
my fine-tuned body bends to hear.

There is someone dying in this house tonight.
Will her leaving take your soul away
or carve a space
where living you will find
the shadowed corner where I watch
and use your savored breath
to speak my name?

From A Hermit Holds My Heart
Ellen Porter
Benetvision