Girltalk

The children are talking
on top of one another like they always do.
Girl voices grown to women.
Four sisters who look like their dad and me.
Even their voices are alike.

Laughter, sudden quiet.
Are they watching me die?
So tired. Cannot open my eyes.
Cannot speak.
So tired….

They mustn’t cry.
Can’t they see this is good?
A mother hen among her chicks.

Go on, my girls.
This is a good way to die
with my girls talking
on top of one another like they always do.
A good way, a good day.
Goodbye.