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


the waiting room TV
nurses coming


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


no other
the dark jeans
the zip up


dark jumper
you silent
like a weary bear
eyes watching


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


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.

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