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Overflowing By Douglas Terry My grandfather is gone The last time I saw him Alzheimer’s had whittled his Brain and body down to A thin transparent flake Of a man His cheeks bones protruded Under his chalk-white eyes Only his vast and familiar hands Had life And they anchored him to the railing Of his hospital bed as if At any moment, Death might rage in a tidal fury Through the walls of his floral Patterned room Drowning him When it did it was not in a rage or torrent or whirlpool just quietly like a bath tub filling with water silently seeping over the edge and flowing gently on the floor |
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Document last modified on: 08/19/2002