THE NIGHTMARE OF CLINGING (poem)

As she lay there
under the debris,
trapped,
crushed,
bleeding to death,
I kept saying
the dumbest kind
of cliched things.

Stay with me.

Help is coming.

Look into my eyes.

You’re gonna be okay.

As it felt the life
departing from hers
my hand’s grip
instinctively tightened.

The feeling
in my heart
of utter futility
as the blood
trickled gently
from lips
which, seconds ago
were trying so profoundly
to tell me,

I ask myself on waking,

what?

~

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