Theory of Departure

Four days of deep sleep, hardly any intake
                      except for what comes through a tube
into her veins—

                      and so when she opens her eyes 
and asks for water it seems nearly  
                      miraculous— 

Intermittently, she calls out to presences.
                     Now, her carers say, she says she wants 
to leave already—

                      She is cocooned into herself,
adrift in a sea of bedclothes.
                      They tempt her with pureed cereal,

sips of warm milk. Only a few mouthfuls.
                      She is working harder at the mystery
of her own going—