i set yours this morning—18 days
in the future, 4 pm, last appointment

you could be worse, but you won’t know
that. all you know is that you’ve been
better, much better, but still have a little
pep in your step. i won’t take that from you

i don’t wonder whether you’d sunbathe
for hours on the rug next to sliding glass
doors, watching sparrows peck, hop
around in your new back yard; about
the family and friends who’ve already
seen you for the last time; or whether
it’s too early, unnatural, humane—right

i wonder how god felt when they scheduled
my appointment; if they thought you could
be worse, but you won’t know that; whether
they took pity, showed mercy, planned
to leave me with a little pep in my step; if they
promised i won’t take that from you