Pronouncing death 2

I have practised these words

the motions of this form,

watched for the rise and fall

of a chest,

listened for a heart

expecting it gone.

At nursing stations

I have written names

last, first, middle

checked boxes

declared antecedent causes

signed.

Still here I was arrested

alongside your stranger bed

by octogenarian nails

painted fire-engine red.

Nobody left to explain the story.

I too have left you

alone in a room

with motes of retinal light.

Stepping around puddles in the driving rain,

recalling infants prefer to sleep

with something touching their head.

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