HATING SATURDAYS.

A POEM OF MOURNING THE DEATH OF A SON.

I hate Saturdays
they remind me of you
and your last
minimal texts

blood in urine
just been sick
in phone text
you said

3 days later
you were dead
that long wait
we had

you unable
to urinate
drinking bottled water
breathing heavy

looking tired
you seeing
the doctor twice
no result

no end in sight
off to another hospital
another wait
blood tests

waiting
watching
the waiting room TV
nurses coming

and going
you wore your
Family Man tee-shirt
unaware you'd wear

no other
the dark jeans
trainers
the zip up

dark jumper
you silent
like a weary bear
eyes watching

waiting
then a nurse said
you had
to stay the night

so off we went
to take the bed
the last
on the short ward

the window showing
the dark evening sky
not knowing then
unaware

here was where
you'd begin to die
I hate Saturdays
they remind me
of you

at a low ebb
the unfolding drama
the same scenes
after the other

the questions
I continue to ask
inside my head
shaping up

the scenes
trying to avoid
the end
where you are dead.