Aerosolpoetic

Always too soon
for my grandmother

Mom always says
when its your time to go
there’s nothing you can do
but her words
could never prepare me for
the sterile stink
of hospitals
the rise and fall
of beeping peaks
on green-screen LCDs
the thin line
between life
and a flat-line death
or the silver glint of
stainless steel surgical instruments
slicing into someone’s mother
father or child
going in
but never coming out
of an operating room

I couldn’t comprehend cancer
at eleven years old
only knew
I wanted you to live
longer than the six months
the doctor gave you

I wasn’t ready for
the 7 a.m. message only
two months later
shaken out of sleep by
news of your death
from the phone
ringing
like an alarm clock
stealing the night
always
too soon