P.F.C. Martin Henry Levey

The things I meant
To tell my father but didn’t
Like the tastiest bits
Left on the plate
For one bad reason or another
Such matters left unsaid
Until it’s almost too late
Are among the reasons
I come to see you today
My dear cousin Marty
A private first class
Like none other
Part cousin part uncle
Part brother

To look into the unfaded truth
That pervades your blue eyes
I can’t imagine any other color
And finally in your presence
There’s no room for doubt
About the portent of
The nurse’s unhurried and
Skillful ministrations
For your impending blind date
As the cancer and strokes
Have almost run the table

In the white bag I brought
A few things of course
A red Gerber daisy
On the nightstand reposes
A plain slice of Junior’s cheesecake
In the fridge now waits

If your eyes were to open
As the moment draws near
I have not the slightest idea
What I’d manage to say
But just to sit near your
Lingering frame
With bruised skin
Pulled loosely over it
Yet still refusing to yield
Its most succulent part
That being your
Untrammeled heart
Every day in acknowledgment
Of its entanglement and
Consanguinity with
Those in close proximity
So liberal of spirit
You will never be undone

Thus tongue-tied
At your bedside I reach
For your hand and feel
It’s quickening pulse
So tongue tied or not
I behold your fading warmth
As it runs a final course
Through the veins
Of my very own body