He Slept With My Sister, When I Was Giving Birth
Walking somewhere they were glad to be walking and had no idea they were going.
I saw Robin.
Robin, in his chair, wheeling himself along in the middle of the river of them, both hands working the rims, smooth, steady, his oxygen line slipped off and trailing forgotten over one shoulder, his face turned up to the light with all the rest. Robin, who an hour ago, a day ago, I'd lost all track, had brought his hand down on a table like a gunshot and told me he was the one who made the calls. Floating. In a current of bodies.
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