Ringing resounds abounds
vibrates studio’s wood floor
looks down upon
Berkeley’s aimless avenues
late drifting to sleep
I sense, he’s dead.
We left sterile bland room
Mom alone beside bed
as the end neared.
Cancer had pushed him
into a final coma
breathing hushed,
irregular.
I dash dazed downstairs
to still-warm waiting car
balance scalding instant coffee
motor across Bay Bridge
past intermittent billboards
remembering
tearless
numb
Dad’s final
rest
has begun.
