My sister died on a Saturday.
A week after her birthday.
A day before
her family and I were coming to
take her out to lunch at the deli
for her favorite tongue sandwich
and cherry cheesecake. The staff
at the nursing home told us she was
excited about the lunch; also said
that she said good-bye to the other
patients then wheeled into her room.
She was found lifeless an hour later.
My sister loved to eat; never could
resist cheesecake. Though her body
was a prisoner of advanced Parkinson’s
why did she not hold on for one more
day? Like my sister, these facts resist
coherence. She was an escape artist,
who slipped away from friends, eluded
our efforts to help her create a stable life
but instead took comfort in cocaine
and other addictions. Was her final act
of escape a birthday present to herself?
Dana Robbins is a prizewinning poet. After a long career as an attorney, she earned an MFA. Her three books of poetry, The Left Side of My Life, After the Parade, and Frida’s Boots are published by Moonpie Press, Maine. Her work appears in numerous journals and on the radio.
