Deborah Vatcher

Death Bed

I suffocate my voice
while on the phone
to no one
but the time and temperature
just to hold the connection
no window
opens in here
this sash painted shut
with the blinds down
no shadow on the wall
the lights out
this darkness crawling
across the floor
upstairs
where she lies in bed
the radio on low
with the fan running and humming
feel the vibrations
like a low cello string
tuning
to the expectant audience

Deborah Vatcher attended the University of Massachusetts Medical School, where she received her medical degree in 1986. She has published poetry in several magazines including Fetishes, Urban Dog, the Labrador Quarterly, and upcoming issues of The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, and Gentle Strength Quarterly. She lives in a small town with her husband, two children, four cats, a Labrador retriever, and Pygmy goats.

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