In the Days Leading Up to Your Death by Janet M. Greenstreet

You saw someone without a face 
waiting in white
sitting on your hospital cot 
against the dried-up paneled wall of our living room.

we were watching Antiques Roadshow

He arrived a few days before 
silently walking around the house 
room to room
rustling corner cobwebs.

Our conversation lingered 
over who he might be 
what he may want
why only you could see him. 

night terrors

In stark amber before dawn we crept 
a frantic search for food in foxholes 
our limbs a shadow dance 
illuminated by lamplight you mistook for mortar fire.

your body still a prisoner of war

I crawled my best army crawl 
reaching inside pockets of your awareness
somewhere near Pusan you collapsed 
gunned down in fiery volley by a malnourished mind.

5 feet 2 inches shouldn’tbe able toairlift a fatherso easily

The mission’s take shared between us:
Rolling Rock ponies plus a dropper of morphine for you 
our white-cloaked visitor sole witness.
drifting—you settled into the sofa’s sweet spot.

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Janet M. Greenstreet is a writer and photographer living and working in the Philadelphia area. Her work has been published in Frogpond journal, bottle rockets press, Red Flag Poetry, Philly Beer Scene magazine, and on billboards in the Pennsylvania countryside.