she calls

says she’s not feeling well.

has talked to her supervisor.

is waiting for the paramedics.

a pain in her chest,

just like the one she had

when we went camping,

Annan and I, two years back,

tented in a mobile free zone.

Katherine ferried her to the A&E;

tested for cardiac events in her blood.

some anomalies detected, told to take care.

i say i’m on the way.

she says she’ll be waiting.

there’s no traffic.

every light is green.

i see only you, waiting,

the tremors of your faltering heart

fuelling the uxorious engine pulling me to you.

many miles to cross. many frantic miles to go.

i can only see you, just you, waiting….

she’s covered when i arrive.

They tried, they say, but….

everything fades to noise….

obscure i open and close, my skinned petals dropping,

roots shrivelling in this sudden drought.  

when there is nothing, when I have been emptied,

I hear you say, “our daughters will be waiting for you.”

I turn knowing what I must be.