One last loop by Richard Fox

Bailey Dog,
my shadow. Senses
pain, weakness.
Mirrors angst.

Cuddles.
His back, my hip.
Alert to coughing,
addled breaths.

Plan my funeral
procession. Measure
distances from service
to burial to reception.

Which shul shortens
the stress of riding
in grief? Want my family
unburdened by silence.

Choose a rabbi.
Music. Readings. Poems.
Ask difficult favors
that can never be repaid:

eulogies, pallbearers, obituary,
mourners to hold my loved ones
when dirt and gravel
strike wood.

Time is lost in voids.
Mortality, the inescapable escort,
sits next to me
in the backseat.

Bailey has diabetes.
We are old, ill males. Waiting.
Blind, he will guide me
through darkness.



Richard Fox’s poems feature rock ’n roll and youthful transgressions, but his focus is cancer and hospice from the patient’s point of view. He is the author of eight poetry collections and winner of the 2017 Frank O’Hara Prize. smallpoetatlarge.com