Mark Scott Bagula

Bucket Beyond you, the hospital beds stretched the curve of the earth: endlessly empty and grayish white like bleached dominoes, or forgotten headstones in a desert town.  The doctor who lost attention looked as doctors speaking death should look: tired, beaten and sober.  After the answer, bedside banter emptied itself in the long narrow room. I absorbed my share to overflowing, and we laughed how you'd been "full of it" for years. Then, I carved your name deep in a silent bed; distractedly chiseled your memorial; and blew the dust in eternity's eyes to assist you in your last defiant kick to the scrotum.

Copyright © 1999 Mark Scott Bagula All Rights Reserved