Goodnight, Saint Peregrine
Braindead, all the doctors agreed,
throughout the day each asked me if I was ready.
Brahms lullaby played a half-dozen times
while I waited for a sign.
Both keeping you alive and letting you go
seemed somehow selfish.
On another floor, in another unit,
new mothers cradled lifetimes of possibilities.
After I agreed to extubation and
all of the machines were wheeled away,
I could have run my fingers
along your cracked lips or leaned in
to feel your breath against my cheek
but instead I anxiously hovered over you,
my Saint Peregrine pendant, swinging above
that frail body of impossibility.
When our oldest called to see when
I was coming home, I asked
both of our daughters to say goodnight.
I put the phone on speaker and held it close.
Our six-year-old shouted, Daddy, sleep
for a long time, see you tomorrow!
as I twirled your last breath and my
waning faith around a silver chain.
About the Author: Rebecca Schumejda is the author of several full-length collections including Falling Forward (sunnyoutside press), Cadillac Men (NYQ Books), Waiting at the Dead End Diner (Bottom Dog Press), Our One-Way Street (NYQ Books) Something Like Forgiveness, a single epic poem accompanied by collage art by Hosho McCreesh (Stubborn Mule Press) and her new collection Sentenced (NYQ Books). She is the co-editor at Trailer Park Quarterly. She received her MA in Poetics from San Francisco State University and her BA from SUNY New Paltz. She lives in New York’s Hudson Valley with her family. You can find her online at: rebecca-schumejda.com
Image Credit: Giacomo Zampa “San Pellegrino” Public domain image courtesy of Wikimedia
As It Ought To Be 