Last Words

/ /

When your heavy head leaned upon your hand, the one with the gold band, when your lids closed with a shudder,

as if someone had lowered all the shades in your room, where you had fallen asleep in your chair, the tumbler beside you, untouched, your chest forcibly pumping.

They said it was an aneurysm that went to your heart. And I wonder if you had woken a minute before, to find me standing there, in the half-light of afternoon,

would you have mistaken me for your life?