Marathon

tick
tock
bubbling and hissing
of the concentrator

making air
breathing life
through a tube

clock moving
yet time doesn't

she leans into him
eyelids drooping
turns her forehead into
his neck

he kisses her hair
whispers to her
his arm sustaining her
keeping her from falling

he lays her down
positions her legs
limp in his hands
covers her up

kisses her on the lips
she looks up at him
the corners of her mouth
turned up slightly

gurgle gurgle
hiss hiss
tick
tock
hum

he hovers
waiting for the slightest
flinch
indication of need

holds up her head
puts a straw to her lips
I'm thirsty
she whispered

but she can't draw
the water
I'm thirsty
he wets the tiny sponge
on the end of a plastic stick

puts it to her
parched lips
swabs the inside
of her mouth

mmmmm
her head leans
into his hand
he lays her head down

strokes her cheek

he's been up all
night
tonight his son
will take over
so he can sleep

a third son
will take the next
they watch
ever vigilant

the air is thick
with death
and love
to speak would be blasphemy

she gave me birth
he said
she raised me up
this is the least I can do

his eyes tear up
he clears his throat
stares at the clock
willing it to move

i feel intrusive
a voyeur
on this
intimate stage

all i can do
is take her limp hand
and pray
she can trust
that Jesus' arms
will catch her