Facetime

a last call with him.

he was once a big man,

his body filling up a room,

like his personality.

but here in this hospital bed,

he looks almost like a supermodel.

his speech is in mumbles and groans,

his eyes are always half lidded.

i can’t even go see him

because of this disease ravaging him.

so instead i watch him through

facetime, saying

words of false cheer.

i watch as my mother holds back tears.

i watch as my mother’s father wastes away.

i watch

but am unable to feel a thing.

i close my eyes

and i remember.

i remember him

rolling coins across the carpet

saying that he has

a hole in his pocket.

i remember him

singing my name into the phone

and even though that name

is no longer my own,

i don’t mind the sound of him using it.

i close my eyes so i

see him as he was

not as a ghost in a bed.

i remember finding lizards in his house

in florida.

i remember how i thought it was

so incredible that these creatures

wandered his house,

freeloaders hiding in

empty flower pots.

i don’t want to see his face

through facetime,

because time has not been kind

to my grandfather.

i watch as my mother ends the call

with a smile on her face,

waiting for the screen to go black

before she cries.

and still i do not feel a thing.

so now i’m just waiting

with bated breath

for my feelings to return,

and sort of hoping

that they never come back.