I did not see her breathing
Just after midnight I watched, waiting for a breath
But soon grabbed her hand instead Fingertips were rigid
But then she’s had arthritis forever Her skin was warm, her face
She exuded such a great heat I feel no breath
I feel no pulse The skin on her face was firm
Lacking the bounce we have
Lacking the movement
Through manipulation and touch I press my fingers to her neck
In search of a pulse
Her skin, the things beneath it
Were rigid, not of rigor mortis
But rather ceasing of life