when
i
visit
my lover
of forty years past
her sharp wit burst brain vein blunted
busy hands knead a stuffed cat as hired caregivers keep
her swaddled safely in the starched white hospital bed – even without makeup her wrinkleless face still glows
her broken hip heals in the tv glare of gameshows, sports and election victories
although i walk and talk – her broken words warn me that
in the tumble of time, old means
you wake to a day
where there is
nothing
to
win