For Whom The Bell
For Whom the Bell
Beige vinyl chairs, a carpet of blue and gray,
Seashore walls, a cupboard of tea for the waiting.
Partners held hands on the armrests between them,
Memorizing the calm of this room before their radiation.
The door was so heavy she braced it with her foot;
I steadied Bry to the threshold, no further.
Beyond it, cold, bright halls, faceless voices soothing the afraid —
And mounted on the wall, a plain brass bell.
Some came out ringing it; celebrating the end.
Their last day earned the bell — a nurse's hand, a peal,
The cancer, named, defeated, the battle won.
It tolled for the living, coming back to life.
On his tenth day I waited for his bell.
The door creaked open. Silence came through first,
Then Bry, on his nurse's arm. No sound. No peal.
He knew. She knew. There was nothing to celebrate.
