What Happens Next? You Asked Me That Night

As I knelt by your head, held your long fingers and dripped the morphine under your tongue. When you are ready, follow the light. But later I wished I had asked him instead: Where are you now, my Father, my friend?    Are you an elder in opiate dreams, with prayers like ghosts hovering over your bed?   Are… Continue reading What Happens Next? You Asked Me That Night