The Day Ted Kennedy Died

I.
Ted Kennedy died today

my husband calls up the stairs
as I am
ironing my skirt
standing in a slip
with my coffee on the dresser
and the light from the lamp
waxing and waning with my motions

what is wrong with this outlet

II.
I catch mosquitos
in one hand
parked on a hill
with the windows down
listening on my phone
while she tells me why she quit
and I'm tired of it
until I think to say

just because they're moving their mouth
doesn't mean you have to listen to it

these mosquitos are huge
and almost striped
and I accidentally
honk the horn
while achieving the last killing

III.
Tell me what's wrong/
with having a little faith/
In what you're feeling/
in your heart

she sings
and my heart
feels something
at the way she sings
heart
and I want to be moving fast
when she sings that like that
and I want to tell someone something

continuing down the highway
I am unprotected

it is not a day for bullshit

IV.
Wide open.

I pull up a chair
next to Charlie in bed
and hold his hand
and watch the reconstructed
roof of his mouth
and his lovely white hair
and we talk about this:

his dying
inevitably
and he is useless
except to those
who love him
and have him
this one more day.

I have Charlie one more day.

I kiss Charlie.

He is a good man. Charlie, I love.

That is the truth in my heart
that I don't beat back.

V.
I tell someone
the truth.

I can't not do it. I can't do
anything else
but this.

VI.
I have seven patients
in this facility
I am
quick and light
in a skirt. I have nothing
to be anything
other than seeing everyone

and seeing them
and touching them
and their hands
and my hands
and their brows
and my lips
to their temples
and my hands in
the hands of their daughters
and husband
and my head to
their heads
and their tears
streaming

and I have nothing but the truth tonight

and I bought myself
hours of
documentation

I could not stop.

VII.
I come home. My
little boy
lost his first tooth
hours ago.

I put my face
into my husbands shirt.

Too much hospice
is the best I can say it
though its not
it.

VIII.
When I came home
there was a big black cloud
overhead and it was
humid and warm and
there were crickets

and when I looked west
there was
a hard line
with an orangey pale sky beyond
and I wanted to
drive towards it
and see it better
a dark summer night here
the last day of summer
here
and autumn
and coolness
over there.

I turned east.
I came on home.